


Scion

by ohmyfae



Series: Imperial!Noct AU [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, Gen, Messing with the Chosen One story, endgame spoilers, rated M for violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: Noctis, abducted and raised in Niflheim, then reintroduced to his former life in Insomnia, leaves on a trip with his new allies to seek out the Oracle's help in defeating the Starscourge. How that happens, however, is not set in stone, and the journey will test all of them by the end.Endgame spoilers! This is a continuation of the Imperial!Noct AU, and happens directly after the events ofComing Home





	1. Sleepless

Noctis Lucis Caelum sat up on the back of his father’s car, staring out at the wavering foothills of Duscae. His head was tilted slightly back by the weight of his hair, which was wrapped in a sloppy bun that was slowly inching out of its ties. Pryna, Prompto’s borrowed dog from the Oracle, jumped up to the warm spot he’d left behind and pawed at his feet. She plopped her head on Noctis’ knee and stared at him mournfully, brows twitching back and forth, and bared her teeth in pure canine joy when he gave in and scratched behind her ears. Prompto was playing something on the radio, a melancholy tune masked by the whistle of the wind as they drove.

“What instrument is this?” Noct shouted down. Gladio looked up from his book in surprise.

“Harp,” he said. “You haven’t heard one before?”

Noct shook his head. Little things like this were always creeping up through the gaps in his experience. Sometimes it felt like his mind was a sieve, a whole world of information lost in over a decade of living and breathing the path that his father had set for him. 

No, he reminded himself. Ardyn. He couldn’t keep thinking of him as his father, not anymore. Not when he knew what he had to do. 

He suspected that he was following Ardyn’s path even now, but with the wind at his face and an unbroken road curving towards Tenebrae, it felt something like freedom.

He let his gaze unfocus as the low hills swept by, and for a moment, the grass was sharper, greener, the hills impossibly steep and lush with thick firs. Pryna whined at his knee, and he glanced down to see the dog staring as well, wriggling in discomfort. He looked back, but the vision was gone. The foothills continued their steady sloping way towards the Disc of Cauthess, and the trees were replaced with sparse shrubs and steppes of stone.

“You see that, girl?” he asked, keeping his voice low. Pryna whined again and nudged his right hand. Noct frowned. The ring of the Lucii gleamed conspicuously on his right ring finger—he must have let the illusion that masked its presence slip at some point during the ride. He ran his left hand over it, and it disappeared from view. 

“It’s getting late.” That was Ignis, running his gloved hands over the steering wheel. “We should find somewhere to rest for the night.”

Noct couldn’t argue. Out of the four of them, he was the one who best knew the dangers of nighttime beyond Insomnia’s borders. He scooted out of Pryna’s way and dropped into the seat next to Gladio. 

“There’s a safe haven by the Slough,” he said, pointing towards the thin stream of smoke that rose from a dying campfire. “Daemonic wards and everything.”

“Aw, really?” Prompto moaned from the passenger seat. “Camping?”

“What’s wrong with camping?” Gladio asked, a little defensive. Noct laughed, and Pryna wriggled her way onto his and Gladio’s laps, pausing only to roll onto her back with all four legs in the air.

“Your dog is an accident waiting to happen,” Gladio said to the blonde.

“Hey, she likes you,” Prompto said.

“No accounting for taste,” said Ignis. Gladio let out a cry of outrage, and Noct grinned weakly.

Another night. He felt Pryna’s fur catch on the invisible ring on his hand as he scratched her, and ground his teeth. He’d just have to bear through it.

That evening, the four of them went over their plans one more time. Prompto was their guide in their search for Tenebrae’s Oracle, a fact that seemed to worry Ignis, who wasn’t fond of Prompto’s tendency to second guess his findings. However, as a long-time penpal of Lady Lunafreya, Prompto was the expert that they needed.

“When she sent me Pryna, she said she was going on a tour,” Prompto said over dinner. He showed them a map on his phone. “So when people can’t make it to Tenebrae for healing, Luna goes out to meet them, right? She’s scheduled to be here—“ He pointed to a spot just outside of the Niflheim empire, “next Friday. You think we can make it, Specs?”

Ignis frowned. “If we hurry. But it’s awfully close to the Empire. Noct, is this anywhere near where you were…” He trailed off into a tense, awkward silence. Noct leaned forward and stared at the map.

“No, I lived further North,” he said. Prompto put his phone away. “Anyways, I think Ardyn wants to watch us for a while. See what we’re doing.”

“Which is very comforting,” Ignis said. “But what about the Emperor?”

“He can’t be happy to know his political prisoner is running around loose,” Gladio said.

Noct shrugged. “I never really thought about him,” he admitted. 

“Maybe you should. We’ve seen enough MT carriers while walking the damn dog alone.”

The damn dog perked up at this and squirmed out from under Prompto’s chair, expectant.

“No, we are not going for a W-A-L-K,” Prompto said. “Don’t encourage her, dude.”

 

It took ages for everyone to stumble their way into the tent for bed. Ignis was the last to go, hovering over the fire, shifting embers away from the ring of stones around them. 

“Are you coming to bed, Noct?” he asked, in a quiet voice. 

Noct caught the hint of admonishment in the question. “Not yet, Ignis,” he said. “Later. You know how it gets.”

“Let me know if I can make you some tea, at least,” Ignis said. He touched Noct’s shoulder as he passed, and disappeared through the flap of the tent behind him. Noct stared into the fire and sighed.

The hand that held the ring _ached._ He removed the illusion over the ring, but that didn’t help reduce the strain that he could feel on his magic. It felt like his bones were being pulled out of alignment, his muscles straining to reach some distant place his mind couldn’t fathom. He knew it was the barrier over Insomnia draining his strength, but that offered little comfort. He shifted in his seat and tried to focus on the sound of the fire crackling at his feet.

He wished he could talk to Regis. But it was too late in the evening, even if he _would_ probably take the time out to answer a call.

Beneath Prompto’s empty chair, Pryna whined in her sleep.

Noct had gone almost two days without sleeping so far. He was pretty sure no one had noticed yet—the ring left him exhausted anyways, and it was hard to tell the difference between that and the rise and fall of a second wind. He could hear the Crystal’s breathless, inhuman voice in the back of his mind almost constantly now, amplified by the magic of the ring, but in this state he could barely make out a word. Still, that was better than what the Crystal gave to him when he slept: Visions, scraps of history and false endings, insistent in their endless repetition. A warning Noctis didn’t need that he had a duty to _make it right._

Why that duty had to fall to _him_ was anyone’s guess. But even if he tried not to say it, he was Ardyn’s son as much as he was Regis’. When he’d stood before the Kings of Lucis in judgment, they had named him as such—And he had seen the truth of that in the shadows that roiled under Ardyn’s skin under the light of the ring. Whatever had happened to Ardyn, whatever had twisted him into what he was now, it was up to Noctis to resolve.

Noct looked up into the starry night sky over Duscae and prayed to any gods that would listen that he had chosen the right path.

\---

“I knew this was too easy,” Gladio said.

He, Ignis, Prompto and Noct crouched behind a trailer, peering out at the Imperial blockade between the Regalia and their road to the Oracle. There were at least thirty MT soldiers between them and the mechanism unlocking the door, and a transport carrier hovered two hundred feet overhead. 

“I can get to the carrier if I warp to a vantage point,” Noct said.

“No,” said Gladio. “Can’t risk it. Ignis?”

Ignis surveyed the field and quietly pointed out places where they could target weakness in the enemy ranks. Noct was impressed—He was starting to understand how Gladio and Ignis had managed, between the two of them, to become such an unstoppable force in battle. Besides, the voice of the Crystal was starting to hum in his mind again, and he felt too distracted to come up with any form of counter-plan. He deferred to Ignis’ judgment and waited for his signal, striking where the enemy was thickest on the ground. 

The battle went sideways fast, but Noct was used to it. Gladio and Ignis were, as well, but Prompto stayed back with Pryna, taking out MT soldiers one by one at range. It was an embarrassingly easy fight. The MTs here were a basic model, meant only for guarding with a limited set of offensive skills. The real danger was whatever lay in the rapidly descending transport carrier, which opened its bay doors to reveal a mecha unit and a young man with sideswept blonde hair. His voice boomed and cracked through the transport’s speakers, dripping with disdain.

“If it isn’t the traitorous pet of the Chancellor,” cried the man, bracing himself against the wind blowing through the transport door. “Pathetic, to have fallen so low. How unlucky you must feel to see _me_ so soon.”

“I have no idea who you are,” Noct shouted. At his side, Gladio snorted. The man’s face fell for a moment, but he rallied well. 

“Of course you wouldn’t know,” he said. “A shadow has no business acquainting itself with—“

“ _This_ is going to go on for a while,” Noct said, and started walking back to the car. The man’s answering shout made him wince. 

“We aren’t done!” The man clambered into the back of the mecha unit, and the lights of the transport flared a brighter red as it touched down. “You, who have turned your back on the glory of the Empire, will know the name of Loqi, the terror of th—“

Noct groaned loudly. The headache in his temples had reached a fever pitch, and the cold, breathless whispering was a rattling nuisance in his ears. He could sense a warning in the voice, but he didn’t feel much like listening to _anyone_ at the moment, whether it be an interfering Imperial soldier or a Crystal that didn’t know how to leave well enough alone. He summoned a short blade and threw it into the glass of Loqi’s window. 

He warped onto the blade. Loqi was shouting something _again,_ an echoing boom of speakers that made the air around them vibrate. Noct slammed his blade into the window and shattered it, then dragged Loqi out of the shards.

“To think that _you—_ ” Loqi said, but Noct simply hurled him to the concrete below the transport ship. The man barely had a chance to catch his breath before Noct warped onto his chest, landing with a heavy thump on the blade he’d lodged into Loqi’s well-polished armor. 

“Do you know _anything_ about what the Empire has planned for us?” Noct asked. The whispering was louder now, making it harder for him to hear his own voice.

Loqi’s eyes betrayed the truth, even if his tongue didn’t. “I wouldn’t tell _you,_ little Shadow—“ His clear voice ended in a gurgling cry as Noct yanked out his knife and thrust it into the man’s throat under a gap in his armor. He yanked upwards—a messy killing strike, but effective. Loqi was dead in seconds.

“Noct!” Gladio shouted, faint under the roaring in Noctis’ ears.

Only the heat of blood on Noct’s face and neck brought him back to himself. He looked down at the man beneath him and automatically moved to close his eyes, as he’d done for countless others when he’d answered to another name. His hands shook, and the whispering in his ears panned out to a steady ringing. There was a pressure on his shoulder, and he whirled round to find Gladio, his face dark and drawn against the glare of the sun.

“Don’t do that again,” said his Shield.

Noct tried to focus around the perverse thumping of his heart. “Are you ignoring the MT soldiers we just killed?” he asked. He felt himself swaying, and tried to hold in place. 

“This was different,” Gladio said. “ _Don’t do it again._ ”

“Just leave me _alone,_ ” Noct growled, though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it to Gladio, the Crystal, or the body of Loqi at his heels. Then he pitched forward, into the grip of welcoming darkness and the waiting dream that he’d been avoiding for days.

\---

_In the dream, he was back on the hill he had seen in the Crystal’s vision. Ardyn was there, looking only a few years older than Noct, with an open expression that seemed foreign on such a familiar face. He smiled at Noct and stepped forward. When he spoke, the Crystal translated his language in Noct’s mind, but it was almost unnecessary now. Noct knew the words by heart._

_“Izunia,” Ardyn said. He pressed a hand to his chest, then reached out to touch Noct’s, casually as someone else would engage in a wave or a bow. When he removed his hand, it was sticky with blood. Noct looked down at his black shirt, and saw the damp stain from his fight with Loqi spreading slowly down his torso._

_“It can’t be long now,” Ardyn told him. “Soon, the Scourge will be purified, and I will return home.” He turned back to the distant mountains and sighed._

_“It’s a beautiful country,” he said. “I wouldn’t have seen so much of it without the Astrals’ blessing. When I am King, we can build a summer home here. A second capital, for those artists and poets you like so much. Wouldn’t that be something?”_

_Noct felt a warmth at his leg and looked down. Pryna was there, nose pointed towards Ardyn, tongue lolling as she panted. This was new. Noct lowered his hand to Pryna’s head and grimaced at the streak of blood he left on her fur._

_Then, as though Pryna’s presence had disrupted the Crystal’s careful script, the dream changed. Ardyn looked at the dog in surprise, and then back to Noct. Confusion flickered in his eyes, and he stepped forward. When he spoke, Noct listened frantically for the Crystal’s translation._

_“You aren’t Izunia,” he said. He looked down at Noct’s chest, then at his hand. “You’re bleeding? Are you… A daemon, perhaps. No, possessed?” He placed both hands on Noct’s shoulders, and there was a kindness in his eyes that sent an inexplicable creep of fear over Noct’s skin. “Do not be afraid, friend. Be still.”_

_Pryna barked, twice, and her eyes glowed an unnerving, sparkling gold. Then Noct fell back, still in Ardyn’s hold, and into the gracious embrace of true, dreamless sleep._

\---

Gladio looked over at the sleeping prince of Lucis and frowned. 

Ignis had disposed of Noct’s shirt, which was too stained to be properly laundered, and had bundled him into the backseat with one of the camp blankets. He’d stayed unconscious through the whole process, though they could see his eyes moving under his closed lids, and his hands would sometimes clench or reach out into empty air. Now, he was curled up with Prompto’s dog, bare arm wrapped around her as they slept. 

“What was that Loqi said?” Prompto asked, from the front seat. “He kept calling him a shadow. Is that supposed to mean something?”

“I can’t say,” said Ignis. “His highness barely speaks of his time in the Empire.”

“Seemed like he was getting better, though,” Gladio said. Prompto leaned over his seat to get a closer look. “I almost forgot what he was capable of.”

“You can’t stop him from fighting,” Ignis said. “It’s inevitable. We will be heading close to the heart of the Empire.”

“Yeah. Close to home.” Gladio pulled up the blanket to cover Noct’s shoulder. “He’s trying to change, I know. But it’s hard to fight your conditioning. We’ll have to watch him.”

Prompto looked from Gladio to Noct, and withdrew, worrying his lip with his teeth. “ _I_ think he can fight it,” he said, after a minute. “I mean, that’s the whole reason we’re on this trip, right? He's the... chosen, or something.”

Ignis smiled at him encouragingly. “Of course, Prompto.” He turned onto the exit towards Lestallum. “The Gods can't be wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore what would happen if Noct wore the ring from the outset, the way his Ardyn and Regis influences shape him as a hero, and how the ring and the Crystal would respond to a host who doesn't follow the predestined script. There's going to be a bit of Ardyn-related backstory revealed throughout this as well.
> 
> Also: PUPPER  
> MAGIC PUPPER


	2. On the Road to Find Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way to find Luna, Noct and crew talk to each other for once, like actual adults.

_“They say that the King called you the Accursed.”_

_Ardyn smiled down at the person who had spoken—a middle aged blonde woman with the greying skin and cracked lips of one in the throes of the worst stage of the Scourge. Ardyn was older, now, closer to the age that Noct recognized, and the black coat and riding clothes he’d worn in earlier visions were ragged and threadbare. He placed his hands on the woman’s forehead and closed his eyes._

_“Our new _King,_ ” He said, with only a little venom in his voice, “is not always correct. This won’t take but a moment, my dear.”_

_Unseen in this vision, Noct sat next to him, watching as Ardyn called forth the golden light of healing magic into his palms. Slowly, the mark of the Scourge started to fade from the woman’s skin, trailing away in black tendrils that seeped into Ardyn’s fingers. She sighed, and Ardyn smoothed back her hair._

_Then there was an electric jolt in the air, and Ardyn’s hands convulsed. He cursed, tried to pull away, but when he grit his teeth against whatever pain rolled down his skin, Noct’s dream-self recoiled at the unnatural blackness of his gums. The stain of the Scourge left his fingertips and sank back into the woman, poured into her, making her twist and scream in a voice that no longer sounded fully human. Ardyn cried out, and sparks of golden light flickered weakly in the air, but it was too late. The woman under his hands opened wide, red eyes and bared teeth that were far too long, scratched at his arms with fingers thick and veined as claws, hissed in pain and a visceral rage. Ardyn held his hands over her nose and mouth and pressed down, and down, and down, and the tears that trailed his cheeks were black as oil._

“Noctis.”

Noct woke with a start, thrashing against the weight of his sleeping bag. He looked up into Ignis’ worried face and sighed loudly. 

“ _What?_ ” he asked. He turned and saw that Gladio and Prompto were also up, staring at him with the same tense expression. 

“You were screaming,” Prompto said.

“Fuck, really?” Noct collapsed onto his back. “What was that, the third time this week?”

“Fourth, if you count the time in the car,” Gladio said, helpfully. Noct covered his eyes with both hands and groaned. “No offense, Noct? But that Crystal can go fuck itself.”

Noct let out a mirthless bark of laughter. “You think? It’s trying to tell me something about Ardyn. I don’t think it likes the way I’m doing this.”

“Asking for help, you mean?” pointed out Ignis. “Not trying to kill the Scourge by yourself? Yes, I can see how that would be a _terrible_ plan.”

“The old Kings seem to think so,” Noct said. “They won’t let the Crystal shut up about it.”

Prompto reached over to slap Noct on the arm, and he jumped. “Don’t worry about it, dude. When we find Luna, she’ll know what to do. She’s kind of—“

“Amazing,” Gladio said, in a dry voice. “A genius. The kindest, sweetest woman you’ve ever spoken to in your life.”

“The starlight of your endless sea,” Ignis said.

“The light of your soul,” said Noct, grinning despite himself.

“The—hey, hands off the goods!” Gladio fell back as Prompto bowled him over.

“Alright, shut up! I get it!” he cried. At his side, Pryna barked happily and jumped over his and Gladio’s wrestling, scrambling bodies to land with a thump on Noct’s stomach. Ignis took one look at the rapidly escalating chaos of the tent and made his way to the entrance.

“Don’t leave me with them!” Noct cried, trapped under the weight of a wriggling dog.

“Sun’s up,” Ignis said, unaffected. “I believe I shall start breakfast.”

Noct flipped him off, laughing, just before Prompto’s bare foot smacked into his cheek.

 

The trip soon fell into a comfortable rhythm. A typical day started with four hours of driving, a stop to walk Pryna, and then a twenty-minute scramble to take out the carrier full of MT soldiers that just _happened_ to be passing overhead. After that, they’d eat standing up outside of the Regalia, and they’d drive another four hours before finding a place to stop for the night. The close proximity and the inability to escape from anyone’s eye for more than a few minutes at a time taught Noct more about his companions than he’d learned in the past eight months at Insomnia.

For instance, Prompto almost never took off his gloves. Even when he did, he left his leather wristbands on, and was cagey about washing his hands in full vew. Noct caught himself staring a few times, and thought he saw a mark under the bands—an injury, perhaps? But surely Prompto couldn’t be self-conscious about a scar, not when Noct’s own collection was just this short of gruesome. He was very receptive to praise, as well—Once, Noct had shouted, “Good work, Prompto!” in the heat of battle, and the blonde had beamed so wide that he didn’t notice the MT anchor veering towards him before it was almost too late. Noct made a point to compliment him a little more after that, and it was interesting to see just how many shades of red one man could turn in the course of an hour.

Ignis turned out to be obsessed with a coffee-based energy drink, which made him a little _too_ earnest at times. They’d be sitting in the car, perfectly still and quiet, and then Ignis would slam his palm on the steering wheel and reveal to them the latest idea that would revolutionize the culinary world, the military, or once, the science fiction genre. Gladio gamely went along, but Prompto and Noct quickly learned to dread Ignis’ fervent cry of, “That’s it!”

The biggest surprise of the trip was that Gladio, who for a solid four days had insisted that Pryna was a nuisance and a pest. It was quickly discovered that he had secretly harbored a deep yearning for a dog of his own since the age of four. The resentful, seething jealousy finally broke sometime after they’d passed Lestallum, when the others found Gladio kneeling at Pryna’s side with his hands in her fur, whispering, _Who’s a good girl, then? Who is it? Is it you? Are you the good girl?_

Prompto had yet to let him live it down.

The dreams still didn’t abate, and despite everyone’s assurances that it was no trouble, really, Noct could tell that they were getting worried at how often Noct would jerk awake in the middle of the night. Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer, and risked calling Regis on his cell phone. It rang four times before he heard the now familiar click of someone picking up. 

“Dad?”

“Noctis!” Regis sounded pleased. “How’s the trip, son?”

Noct looked over at Prompto and Gladio, who were fighting over Pryna’s attention by the campfire. “Eventful. Dad, I wanted to ask you something. About the Crystal.”

There was a short silence on the other end of the line. “Yes?”

“When you wore the ring… did it ever… talk to you? Give you dreams?”

“I never heard it speak, per se. I always viewed it as a battery of sorts, powered by the Astrals.” Noct sank into his seat and dragged his hand through his hair. “But dreams, yes. Once or twice.”

“Really? What were they?”

He waited for Regis to respond. At the other end of the fire, Ignis grabbed a skewer of meat and let it dangle from his fingers, near his feet. Pryna perked up and bounced her way to the advisor. She was at his side, chewing with grim satisfaction, when Ignis raised his brows at Gladio and Prompto’s startled faces and mouthed, _checkmate._

Finally, Regis said, “The Crystal doesn’t always tell the truth, Noctis. The future it reveals to you is not set in stone.”

“What about the past?” Noct asked. “And if it isn’t always true, then how changeable is the whole… chosen prophecy?”

“I cannot say, Noctis,” Regis said, in a very low voice. Noct felt a shiver run down his arms. “But don’t put too much stock in dreams. I admit, I never saw into the _past,_ but I do know that at least one vision of the future has already been averted.” There was a shuffling noise. “Ah, I may have to go. Your friend Nyx has arrived to tell me that one of his men has set fire to the linen closet in the East hall.”

“They didn’t, really?”

“Call it an educated guess. Be safe, son.”

“You too, Dad.” Noct turned off the phone and stared at his feet, trying to make sense of it all. They were on their way to enlist the help of the Oracle—and the Crystal was sending him visions of _another_ Oracle, of Ardyn. By now, he’d seen the Scourge twist the young man Ardyn had been into something of the monster he’d become. Was it telling him not to put his faith in Oracles? In healing? That despite the flashes of visions where it seemed possible, that the purification of the Scourge would only lead to another cycle of corruption? He frowned. He knew what the Crystal wanted him to do—perhaps what even Ardyn wanted him to do. To kill Ardyn. To destroy the Scourge that had taken root in him, over those long years in the distant past. But hadn’t Ardyn been tasked with the removal of the Scourge, as well? How much did the Astrals really know, if their chosen ones could fall so low? 

He felt like a man at the edge of a cliff, forced to choose between a hopeless fight or total surrender. But there was always a third option: He could turn from that fight altogether, leap off the ledge and pray that the fall wouldn’t kill him. The uncertainty of that third choice was tangled up in the visions of the Crystal, the whispers of the old Kings, and the promise of an Oracle who may or may not be the key to Eos’—and maybe even Ardyn’s—salvation.

Tomorrow, on the day he was set to finally reach her, he'd know.


	3. Luna

Ignis pulled the Regalia into the cover of a grove of oak trees and turned off the engine. “We’re here,” he said. Gladio shoved Noct in the arm, forcing him awake, and Prompto jumped out of the car without bothering to open the door.

“Someone’s eager,” said Gladio. Prompto shrugged.

“Wouldn’t you? Dude, we’ve been writing since we were kids. This’ll be the first time she—“ He stopped, and ducked down to look in the side mirror. “My hair,” he croaked. “Is it too… too…?”

“Chocobo shaped?” Ignis asked. “Yes.”

“You look fine, Prompto,” Noct said, but ruined the effect by yawning halfway through. Prompto teased the ends of his hair and pulled an eyeliner brush from his back pocket. The others groaned as he started to painstakingly reapply the wings at the corners of his eyes.

Noct stepped out of the car and peered down the dirt path that led to a large, crowded pavilion in the adjacent field. There were too many people there to make out the Oracle, but this _was_ the place Prompto had pointed out on the map. It was a shame they didn’t have a way to warn Luna that they were visiting, but they couldn’t trust their plans to not be intercepted by the Empire. Noct turned towards the others and nodded.

“So,” Ignis said. “How are we doing this, Noct? We have to be able to speak to her without drawing undue attention. We can’t be supplicants… perhaps if we—“

“I have a plan,” Noct said. “You aren’t going to like it.” Ignis narrowed his eyes, but Noct ignored him, going to the trunk of the Regalia and popping it open. He dug in one of his bags for a bit, then pulled out a simple suit that made Ignis and Gladio let out a sharp breath.

It was the uniform Noct had worn under his jacket on the day he’d arrived in Insomnia. The fabric was black—Ardyn had always dressed Noct that way—but the cut was unmistakably that of an Imperial soldier. Not an MT’s uniform, of course, but perhaps one belonging to a higher ranked member of a special forces team.

“No one will question an Imperial soldier needing to speak to the Oracle,” Noct said. “Especially given that her brother was just promoted last year.”

“I’ll wear it,” Ignis said, abruptly. Noct stared at him. “Or Prompto. We can’t put you in danger.”

“Sorry,” Noct said, “You _stand_ wrong. You don’t know how to walk like a soldier—No, even you, Gladio. Give me a minute, okay?”

He changed behind a tree a few yards away, cursing as he reacquainted himself with the odd placement of the zipper and the rough fabric. When he was done, he felt strangely dizzy, and couldn’t seem to be able to look at himself without falling into a mental fog. Had it really been so long? How had he changed so much that the sight of his limbs in his old uniform could make his head swim? When he finally emerged from his cover, Ignis involuntarily stepped back, and Gladio's expression went dark.

“You look…” Ignis trailed off, his face pale.

Noct knew what they meant. He’d been wearing something like this the first time they met. To say that meeting didn’t go well was something of an understatement, though it surprised Noct that the memory was just as uncomfortable for them. 

“It’s still me,” he said. When they didn’t respond, he sighed and summoned a sword, hooking it to his belt. "Not regulation by any means," he said to himself, "but it'll work. Keep Pryna back, guys." He waved once and turned to the path.

“Remember the signal if things go south,” Gladio said, as he made his way towards the pavilion across the clearing. Noct didn’t bother to reply—he was already in view of the crowd, and he needed to act the part. He straightened his shoulders and fell into the steady gait he’d used time after time in the halls of the fortress in which he used to live. His boots sank into the soft earth, and he could hear the murmur of voices from the faraway crowd.

The Oracle was leaning against a table at the back of the pavilion, taking a short break between healings. Her hair was long, tied up with a braid, and Noct felt a sinking weight in his chest at the sight. She’d been wearing the same hairstyle in one of the Crystal’s visions, the one where she had bled out on a stone dais, her body dragged into the sea. 

At her feet was a grey and white dog about the same height and breed as Pryna. The dog looked up at Noct with an altogether too knowing stare and whined softly. The Oracle turned, saw Noct, and scowled.

“Imperial soldiers are not allowed within a pavilion of healing,” she said, as Noct snapped to a halt ten feet away. “You will leave this place.”

“I have orders from General Ravus,” Noct said, looking just over Luna’s left shoulder. “I am to escort you to—“

Luna lifted her head, endeavoring to look down on Noctis with an icy glare. All the reports he’d read of the Oracle had painted her as a gentle, dutiful woman who tiptoed around the Empire, and Prompto only talked about how kind and optimistic she was—this flash of indignant anger was intriguing.

“You will wait until I have finished here,” she said. Her voice was sharp enough to cut diamond. Noct couldn’t help himself—He bowed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and placed a hand on his heart. 

Luna looked at him for another long, long moment before turning away.

He stood at attention for the rest of her time there, watching her carefully. She was visibly tiring with each healing, but she made an effort to only speak to her supplicants in a soft, understanding voice, and she assured each of them that _they_ had done the hard work by coming here. She refused to look in Noct’s direction, and Noct caught the other members of the crowd following suit, leaving him in a rough patch of empty grass. That was fine—he didn’t want anyone to look too closely at his face. 

The glow that hung about her as she purified the Scourge from her patients’ bodies was the same as the light Noct had seen from Ardyn in the Crystal’s visions. But this time, instead of drawing the Scourge into herself as Ardyn had done, Luna was pouring her magic _into_ her patient. It was as though she were burning the disease from their bodies, using her own magic and life force to give them the strength to fight it off. For the first time in over a week, Noct felt hope stirring in his heart. Maybe this was possible, after all.

Luna lingered at the pavilion after her last healing, speaking to each of the volunteers who had set up the space. When she’d lent one more twinkling smile to the man in charge of clearing out the event, she turned on her heel and strode past Noct, brushing his shoulder with her own. The grey dog trotted at her heels.

“Very well,” she said. “Lead on.”

Noct eased into a light march, drawing level with Luna. “I don’t believe you understand what ‘Lead on’ means, Lady Lunafreya,” he said.

“You’re very talkative for a soldier,” Luna responded. “What was your name?”

They were far enough away now for no one to hear. “Noctis,” he said, in a low voice. “Noctis Lucis Caelum.”

Luna halted.

“Please continue, Lady,” Noct said. Luna matched his pace, and took a steadying breath.

“It was dangerous for you to come here, your highness,” she said. Noct smiled.

“I’m not here just for myself,” he said. “This way, please.” He bowed her towards the Regalia, where an unruly lump of fluff was trying to scramble out of the backseat. At Luna’s heels, the grey dog let out an excited bark. Luna immediately dropped to her knees as Pryna, barking and whuffling, bounded into her arms. 

“Pryna?” Luna asked, running her hands over her dog’s fur to a chorus of ecstatic squeaking. “But… I sent her to Prompto last month…”

“Yeah, I brought her along,” Prompto said, ducking around Ignis and Gladio. Luna let go of her wriggling pet and stood. She walked towards Prompto faster than was probably comfortable in her narrow white dress, and wrapped her arms around his neck with a delighted shout. Prompto laughed and heaved her an inch off her feet.

“You’re so much taller than your last photo!” she cried, gripping Prompto’s face in both hands. She tilted his head to the side as though trying to commit him to memory. “What happened to you? Did you become a man behind my back?”

“Not yet,” Noct said. Gladio snorted, and Prompto gestured rudely from over Luna's shoulder. Luna pulled away from their embrace and looked from Noct to Prompto, worry in her eyes.

“But… This is too close to the Empire,” she said. “It isn’t safe. For you, especially, Prompto—“

“Not right now,” Prompto said tightly. Something unspoken seemed to pass between them, and Luna disengaged from his arms. Noct glanced at Ignis and Gladio, who both looked at Prompto with concern. So they had noticed, too. Interesting.

“I’m sorry, Lady Lunafreya,” Noct said. “I know you have other duties, but we needed to speak to you. It’s about the Starscourge.”

Luna nodded. “Of course.” She leaned down to scratch Pryna and the grey dog behind their ears. "You’ve come to destroy it.”

“No,” Noct said, and Luna looked up in surprise. “We’ve come to purify it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Golly! What are Luna and Prompto talkin' about at the end, there, hm? HMMMM


	4. New Friends, Old Faces

Admittedly, Noct and his companions hadn’t _meant_ to abduct the former princess of Tenebrae.

It happened almost by accident. Luna and Noct were so consumed in a heated debate over purification and the rules of prophecy that when Ignis informed them that they would need to find lodgings for the night, Luna climbed into the back seat without a second thought. 

“Purification of the _symptoms_ of the Scourge is hard enough,” she insisted, ignoring Gladio’s protests as she backed Noct up against his shoulder, “but the Scourge itself? Oracles have _died_ trying to keep the tide of the Scourge from spreading. It was created by a _god_ —It would take the strength of a god to cleanse it.”

“Exactly,” Noct had replied. “So let’s ask a god.”

_That_ had sparked another debate, which continued for nearly thirty minutes before Prompto started making a pathetic whimpering noise from the front seat. Luna stood, and Noct and Gladio lunged to hold her upright as she leaned over the back of Prompto’s seat.

“What’s the matter, little bit?” she asked, and pressed a hand to his forehead, pulling back to muss his perfectly gelled hair. 

“I’m _dying,_ Prompto moaned. Ignis rolled his eyes, but Luna frowned slightly. “It’s just…” he gasped. “So… boring…”

Luna smacked him on the side of the head.

“Please,” he said, like a man who was on the last legs of his strength. “Remember me… as I was… devilishly attractive… friend to all… a-amazing ass…”

“Some sort of ass, surely,” Ignis said, nonplussed. Luna threw her hands in the air and sat back in defeat, and Prompto cackled. 

There was no chance of renting a hotel room with _two_ dogs in tow, so Luna, Pryna, and the grey dog, Umbra—who turned out to be a stoic, smug little food thief and Gladio’s new best friend—shared a tent, while the boys crammed into another. Noct had no plans to go to bed for a while, though, and spent a good hour texting Regis as the night crawled by.

“Hey, buddy.” He glanced up to see Prompto collapse in a chair next to him. “Holding up okay?”

“Getting by.” Noct set down his phone. “What do you think of Luna, now that you’ve met her in person?”

“It’s weird,” Prompto said. “Her voice sounds so different on the radio. But… I don’t know.” He twisted the straps of his bracelet in the fingers of his right hand. “I was worried it wouldn’t be the same. Like maybe she’d take one look at me and go, _Oh, gods, what have I done!_ ”

Noct gave Prompto a disbelieving look.

“But it didn’t happen.” Prompto sighed. “It’s like... being reunited with a family you never met before. Does that make sense?”

“I think I get the idea,” Noct said, wryly. Prompto tugged at his bracelet, and Noct saw the blue-black lines of a tattoo on his wrist, flashing in and out of sight. 

“I got used to it,” Prompto said. “Not--Not being wanted. I mean, my parents are, are nice. They raised me, I guess, but I was always kind of… alone. After a while, it makes you wonder, you know? That maybe it’s something you…” he sighed. “Sorry, dude. I didn’t mean to—“

“No, you’re fine.” Noct searched Prompto’s face, _really_ looked at him, and said, “I was alone, too.”

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the fire crack and hiss as it began to break down into ash and embers, and watched smoke spiral into the dark night sky.

 

The next morning, Luna approached Noct over breakfast. She was wearing one of Ignis’ spare shirts and Prompto’s kakhi pants, and the addition of her heeled sandals gave her the impression of someone who’d dressed in the dark in a hurry. She could have seemed much less intimidating, if it hadn’t been for the way she carried herself. It reminded Noct a little of his dad—Even when he was laughing in the long hours of the night, Regis had an aura of power and command that was etched into his bones. The similarity made Noct feel oddly homesick.

“Let’s meet with the Titan,” Luna said, breaking Noct out of his thoughts. “Part of the task assigned to me as Oracle is to help you forge the covenants with the Astrals. I can’t promise that they’ll listen, if we ask about purification, but it won’t hurt to have them on your side.”

“Our side,” Noct said. Luna grimaced. 

“Are we gonna have to drive _all_ the way back to Lestallum?” Prompto groaned. Ignis shot him a dirty look.

“Who’s _we?_ ” he asked.

“Dude, I’m happy to drive—“

“I’d prefer to live to see my next birthday, thank you,” Ignis said, and Prompto flipped him off. At the other side of the fire, Gladio discreetly fed Umbra half of his pancake, securing his place in the dog’s affections for all time. 

On the way to Lestallum, Gladio was the one who insisted they stop for supplies.

“Sorry, guys,” he said, “but I know it can’t be comfortable for the princess to wear our cast-offs.”

“I’m fine, really,” Luna protested. 

“Sure you are.” Gladio shook his head. “Come on, Lady Lunafreya. Let’s go.”

Shopping with Gladio was an experience Noct wasn’t likely to forget. He went through the racks of the local clothing boutique like it was a second nature to him, and most of his suggestions were met with gracious approval. Prompto and Noct were disqualified from helping after an incident in the lingerie section, and Ignis kept picking out button-downs that were turned down with painful smiles. Gladio talked to Luna through the fitting room door as she changed, and by the end of the outing, was calling her “Luna” instead of “Lady Lunafreya” without needing to be reminded more than once.

“You can’t have Iris for a sister and not pick up on a few things,” he told Noct, as they settled back into the Regalia. “Including how to pay attention.” He lowered his voice. “Luna’s not sold on your plan, Noct, and I don’t think you can force it. She’s gonna have to have time to make up her own mind.”

“Time’s not really a luxury we have,” Noct said. Gladio made a noncommittal noise and shrugged his massive shoulders. 

“You’re the boss.”

“Yeah, right,” Noct said, shoving him. Gladio smirked and pulled out a book from a side pocket of the car, and settled down for the long drive to Lestallum.

When Ignis turned on the car, the radio crackled to life with a squeal of static. Pryna whined and Umbra wriggled under Gladio’s legs. Ignis frowned and fiddled with the knobs, and an announcer’s voice rang out into the mid-afternoon quiet: 

“Reports show that Lady Lunafreya of Tenebrae was last seen outside of the borders of Niflheim, in the company of an Imperial soldier. Inquiries into the Oracle’s disappearance are ongoing, and the Niflheim authorities assure all subjects that they will ensure her safe and timely return—“

Ignis turned off the radio. Everyone turned to look at Luna, who sighed.

“That was quick,” said Gladio. 

“Let’s just hope your brother doesn’t catch on,” Noct said. Luna pulled a face and sank into her seat.

“Oh, no,” she said, darkly, “I’m certain he has.”

 

The sun had set by the time they pulled into Lestallum. Ignis leaned back in his seat for a moment, stretching out his legs. Prompto groaned and fell out of the car. Even Luna was eager to stand on her own feet again, and she laughed when Umbra and Pryna scrambled over the side door to romp between the neighboring cars. Noct followed her gaze, grinning, but froze at the sight of a maroon and white car parked at the far end of the lot.

Gladio was the first to notice. “Noct?” he asked, softly.

“He’s here,” Noct said. Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto stiffened. Luna looked baffled. 

“Who?” she asked. “Is… something wrong?”

Noct stood up in the center of the car, searching the crowd around him. Nothing looked out of place. Tourists huddled near food carts and watched musicians play by the picnic tables. Off-duty power plant workers leaned on the wall of the lookout and laughed loudly. Cats skulked in the shadows near the back of the carts, waiting for people to drop scraps under the tables. And there, behind a stand of shrubbery, looking out at the Meteor and the Archaeon that held it up, was—

“Noct!” Gladio grabbed Noctis before he could warp away, dragging his heels on the asphalt. “Stay _behind_ me. Astrals, you’re like a terrier.” He held onto Noct’s shoulder with one hand, and positioned himself in front of him as he climbed out of the car. Noct ground his teeth and forced himself to walk a step behind Gladio, but he kept tripping up on the larger man’s heels as they approached the figure overlooking the Disc of Cauthess. When they were a few yards away, the man turned with a benevolent smile, and opened his arms to the prince and his entourage. 

“Ardyn,” Noct said, in a strangled voice.

“My boy,” Ardyn replied. Luna startled, looking between them with suspicion, and he turned his gaze to her. “And the Oracle! I must say, Noct. It does your old man’s heart good to see you making new friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao thought you'd seen the last of him?!?  
> Don't be a helicopter parent, Ardyn. Leave Noct alone.


	5. The Titan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things sure are _heating up._

Standing on the lookout of Lestallum, Ardyn smiled down at Noctis in a mockery of tender feeling. Beside the prince, Luna looked from Ardyn to Noct in clear confusion.

“My boy?” she asked. “Noctis, why would this man call you his—“

“I apologize for Noct’s appalling lack of manners,” Ardyn said, turning to Luna. He bowed deeply. “Ardyn Izunia, at your service.”

Luna blinked and nodded in response, but there was a slow, thoughtful look in her eyes as she regarded Ardyn. She walked up to him, one hand raised as though in greeting. He smiled and took her hand, and like the switch of a light, Luna’s eyes darkened. Her fingers glowed faintly against Ardyn’s hand, and sparks of light burst from their contact and sank into the cuff of his sleeve. The chancellor hissed, drew his hand back, and up—

Prompto pulled Luna away as Noct lunged forward. He raised his arm to meet Ardyn’s blow and staggered at the force of it.

“I guess we can see where I get my manners,” Noct said. “Try it again.”

There was a brief moment when Noct wondered if Ardyn was going to lose himself. There was a darkness at the whites of his eyes, a hint of a shadow under the skin of his cheeks, and his lips twitched in a way that seemed more like a puppet mimicking the way humans moved. And then it was gone, and Ardyn’s expression was as free and easy as always.

“Dear one, you don’t have the strength to defy me,” Ardyn said. “Isn’t that what you need the Archaeon for?” He lowered his hand and tugged at the front of Noct’s collar, as though straightening his shirt, but Noct could feel the promise in his touch: Ardyn could kill him now, in front of all of them, without a hint of reservation. 

Soon, that would change. 

Noct jerked out of his grip and let Gladio step in front of him. “If you’re trying to _help_ us, don’t bother,” he said.

“Especially after _that_ stunt.” Prompto was nearly growling. Luna placed a hand on his arm, and he took a deep breath to steady himself.

Ardyn sighed. “I’m afraid you _do,_ son,” he said to Noct. “The Disc of Cauthess… Surely you remember? It’s been held by the Empire for some time now. I’m afraid they aren’t likely to let you walk in… At least, not without ensuring that you don’t walk _out._ And with the lovely Oracle in tow? Quite impossible. I,” he bowed, again, “can convince them.”

“And lead us right into a trap,” Ignis said. Ardyn beamed at him, like a teacher to a star pupil.

“I assure you, my intentions are true,” he said. “We can drive together, so you know there isn’t _any_ ulterior motive. I believe…” he looked at Noct. “ _You_ should ride with me, dear boy. And your charming bodyguard, of course.”

“Like hell he w—“ Gladio started.

“Fine,” said Noct. 

“I’ll join you,” Luna said, and Ardyn opened his mouth to object. “I insist.”

“Of course,” he said. Noct looked from him to Luna, and saw that the Oracle had confirmed what Noct had only just begun to suspect—Ardyn was _afraid_ of her. It was slight, barely noticeable, but there. What had she done to him, when the light had touched his skin? What was it that the Oracle had sensed that had thrown him off?

“Sounds like a great plan to me,” Noct said, flashing Luna a knowing grin. She smiled back and walked off to kneel next to the dogs. Gladio gave Noct a stern look, but Noct mouthed, _Not now_ and turned to follow Ardyn to his car.

And stopped. 

He felt a shudder crawling over his skin, unbidden and sickening, and it took a moment for him to realize that he’d almost fallen into step at Ardyn’s heels. It was something he’d done reflexively for over a decade, the habit that had earned him the nickname of the chancellor’s Shadow, but now he felt nothing but a twisted revulsion at the thought of it. Luna was staring at him from where she crouched with Pryna and Umbra, and he wrenched his gaze away before drawing level with Ardyn instead.

Gladio insisted that they all climb into the backseat, but Noct took shotgun before he could object.

“I can’t believe you still _have_ this car,” he said. Ardyn scoffed.

“The young have no taste.” He pulled the car into reverse and started along the road to the Disc. “Lady Lunafreya.”

“Mm.” Luna seemed oddly alone without Pryna or Umbra at her side. She’d sent them off shortly before they climbed into the car, and Noct could see that Gladio at least looked a little upset at having to leave them behind.

“You weren’t aware that I had the honor of raising dear Noctis from an early age?” Ardyn sounded disappointed. “I can’t believe that he would withhold such important information from you…”

“Ravus told me that you had a son,” Luna said, in a short voice. “I’m sorry to say I did not make the connection before.”

“Really? Oh, I do hope I haven’t made things awkward.” Ardyn glanced at Noct through the rearview mirror, and Noct clenched his fists. They hadn’t had _time_ to brief Luna on the details, and Ardyn knew it.

“Oh no,” Luna said. “You misunderstand. If I’d known, I would have taken him from you.” She fixed Ardyn with such a glare that the chancellor burst into surprised laughter. 

“I _like_ this one,” he said. “Noctis, you have my permission to ask for her hand in marriage, if you survive.”

“Wow, thanks.”

They drove in heavy silence to the gate of the Disc, where Ardyn called up for the guards to let them through. “I will have to leave you here,” he said, with a mournful smile. “You’ll forgive me if I’m not eager to make the Titan’s acquaintance.”

“Not for a second time, surely,” said Noct, climbing out of the car. Ardyn glanced at him sharply, and he smiled. “Thanks for the ride, _father._ ”

“Any time, son.”

Noct waited for Ignis and Prompto to catch up, and shook off the feeling that he needed at least a week of scalding showers to wash that experience from his skin. Luna placed a hand on his shoulder, and he winced.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve told you on the way.”

“It must have been terrible,” she said. 

Noct crossed his arms. “It wasn’t so bad. I mean, I didn’t think it was, when it was happening. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Luna’s hand made soft, circling motions between his shoulder-blades, and Noct pointedly looked away from her. He didn’t want to see the expression on her face, not right now. Gladio stepped up to his other side and slung an arm on his shoulder like an armrest.

“Cheer up, Noct,” he said. “It’s a beautiful day, we’re walking head-first into a trap… Where’s your adventurer’s spirit?”

Noct pushed him and smiled slightly, and let out a sigh when the Regalia reached them at last. It was a relief to put Ardyn behind them, even if Gladio was probably right. 

As Ignis navigated over the bumpy stone path leading to the Disc, Noct pulled out his phone and sent Regis a text.

_Thank you._

There was a pause, and then a brief response.

_For?_

_I don’t know,_ Noct wrote. _Not being a shitty dad, I guess._

 _My goal in life, son,_ was the response. Noct smirked—he could almost _hear_ the dryness in Regis’ voice. Nonsensically, he wished he could be here. It wouldn’t make it easier, but after sitting next to Ardyn, talking to him, Noct felt a yearning in his chest like a physical ache. At least, by taking on the burden of the ring, Noct had ensured that he and Regis would have more time. He just had to make sure that he survived the journey.

 

He should have known that the Titan would not be one for reasonable conversation.

The monstrous figure rose from the earth with the screech and roar of tumbling stone, their ruined mouth gaping wide to speak in a guttural voice over the groan of the meteor they held in their hands. Luna stood before them, her magic spreading out before her in a golden arc, and moved her lips as she tried to translate the Archaeon’s speech.

Noct, standing at her side with his hand on her shoulder, needed no translation.

The Archaeon spoke in the language of the old kings, the tongue that Ardyn spoke in the Crystal’s countless visions. Luna’s pleas for aid with purification were respectful and ardent, but the Archaeon’s response shook the earth at their feet, threatening to tip them forward into a crevasse. Behind them, Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto struggled to climb down the rocky path into which Luna and Noct had fallen, but their voices were drowned out by the sound of the Titan’s fury. Noct’s tongue fumbled over the words for a moment, and then he braced himself against the pain of the Archaeon’s voice and called out in a loud, clear voice.

“Astral of Lucis!” he shouted, in the old language. Luna whipped round to face him. “It is time you paid your debt.”

The Archaeon turned its gaze to Noct, and Luna clutched his arm.

“What are you saying?” she hissed. “Whose debt?”

 _We hold no debt to humanity,_ the Archaeon cried. Noct struggled not to double over in pain as their words washed through him, echoing in his mind. _It is the duty of the King of Light to right the balance._

“It’s a balance you destroyed!” Noct called back. Luna lunged forward.

“Archaeon,” she said, in the modern tongue. “We seek the covenant. Lend your strength to the King, so that he may make right the plague that has beset Eos.”

“No,” Noct said. “No. Forge the covenant so that _you_ can make it right. Help us purify the chosen one _you_ abandoned, cleanse the Scourge _you_ let run loose—“

 _It is not our concern should a chosen King fall to corruption._ The Archaeon grimaced, and lifted their left fist high. _As you, who would pervert the covenant, have fallen._

“He hasn’t—“ Luna cried out as the Archaeon’s fist plummeted towards them, and she summoned a trident into her right hand. Noct cast her a quick look before summoning his own sword, and he warped to meet the Titan’s fist and parry the blow.

The voice of the Crystal screamed in his ears as his blade knocked the Archaeon back.

“I’m sorry,” he shouted to Luna, as he warped to her side. “I think they’ve made up their mind.”

“We could have convinced them!” Luna shouted back. 

“It wouldn’t’ve mattered!” Noct readied his blade as the Titan lifted a foot the size of an MT carrier. “It would have ended the same.”

When the foot descended, both Luna and Noct raised their weapons to meet it.

That was when the MT carriers came, and the trap closed in upon them.

The fight devolved into chaos from there. Luna swept her trident in an arc, keeping MT soldiers back from Noct as he parried the Archaeon’s attacks. Gladio and the others arrived like the front of a hurricane. Prompto threw his disruptors into the fray, freezing the soldiers where they stood, leaving Gladio and Ignis to wipe them out. And Noct climbed up the Archaeon’s arm, summoned all the weapons in his armiger, and thrust them into the Astral’s remaining good eye.

The resulting tremor in the ground threw Luna, Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto to their knees. Noct landed shakily from a falling warp, and watched as golden light began to stream from the Archaeon’s eye and mouth.

 _The covenant with the King has been abandoned,_ the Archaeon said. _Let the Oracle stem the tide of the Scourge until the King returns to his predestined path._

“What?” Luna struggled to rise, but fell forward as the light of the Archaeon grew white-hot, rushing towards her in a torrent of power. Noct grabbed Luna by the arm and raised the ring to it instinctively, and screamed his throat raw as the power of the covenant flowed through his body and into Luna.

He collapsed on his hands and knees as the meteor descended to the earth, making the stones at their feet steam with heat. Beside him, Luna stared up at the glowing mark of the Archaeon that glimmered a few feet over her head. She turned to Noct with eyes that burned with furious tears.

“What have you _done,_ Prince Noctis?” 

“I’m sorry,” Noct rasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Above them, they heard the incessant humming of an Imperial transport carrier, and the creak of bay doors opening in the rippling heat of the Disc.

“I thought,” Ardyn shouted, from the dark maw of the transport doors, “that you might need a lift.”

Luna and Noct turned exhausted, pain-stricken faces up to the descending carrier, and Ardyn’s laugh wove around the crash and groan of crumbling rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Luna. Looks like Noct is on the Astral's shit list, and the Gods are forging the covenants with you, now.  
> Whooooopsss  
> (And thus begins me kicking the chosen hero narrative to the curb. Hahaha)


	6. Waking Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Regis bears witness to the fallout of Noct's actions at the Disc.

King Regis lay in the comforting darkness of his bedchamber, listening to the hush of rain against the long windows of the rooms beyond.

He was beginning to enjoy these quiet moments, without the strain of the barrier pulling at his strength, without the ring as a constant ache in his bones. It was little comfort to know that Noctis now bore the burden in his stead, but he hoped at least that his son’s journey would resolve itself in time for Insomnia’s army to rebuild. 

Regis held no illusions: There was no chance of recovering what he and Noct had before his abduction. There would be no true absolution from the shame of letting him fall into enemy hands, of betraying the late Queen’s trust that he _Raise him well. Our son first, before a prince._ She had held his hands so tight that his bones creaked, and Regis had promised her even as she fell into the dark in which he could not follow. He had failed her, and he had failed Noctis, on that terrible day when Ardyn had stolen his son.

He would not fail them again. 

Regis sighed. Decades of sleepless nights could not be undone in the course of a few months. He leaned towards a book at his bedside table, and in so doing, something flickered in the periphery of his vision. He froze, caught in a slow dread that built like a wave beneath his skin, and turned to face the foot of the bed.

Queen Aulea stood before him, clad in the white nightgown she’d worn on the day she died.

“No,” Regis said. “Not this.”

 _The King of Light has broken the covenant,_ Aulea said, in a voice that could not have come from living lungs. He’d heard this sound, once, when Noctis was newly lost to him. He’d approached the Crystal in a fit of rage and grief, held his hand to its rough surface and begged for a reason, to know what else must be endured for Noct’s ascension as the chosen king. _A life,_ the voice had said, and the Crystal had dropped a vision into his mind like water into a still pool. Regis had turned his back on his duty for the first and final time, then. It would not ask this of him. No one, not even prophecy, not even the gods, would take his son from him again.

“Noctis will not fail you,” he said. Aulea looked so real in this light. Her hair was slipping loose from its ties, like it always had, and he ached to reach out and run his fingers through those dark curls. 

_He has strayed from the path,_ the Crystal said, through Aulea’s lips. _He rejects the blessing of the Gods._

Regis smiled at the vision of his wife. “Have faith.”

 _His actions will lead to your ruin._ Aulea gripped the base of her stomach, and Regis lurched forward as dark blood seeped through the thin cloth of her gown. Her mouth opened in an echo of a scream, and the Crystal continued even as she wept in soundless pain. _You must stop him before he brings the world into the dark._

“Don’t do this.” Regis’ voice sounded harsh as a crow in his ears as Aulea doubled over, disappearing below the ornate footboard of the bed. A small, dark-haired boy rose in her place, pale and bright-eyed, staring at him with a stern expression that was too old for his face.

Noctis, before he’d been taken.

 _Come and see what future your son is shaping,_ the ghost of his son said, and turned to race for the door. 

Regis cursed the gods and their gifts, slowly dragging himself out of bed and reaching for his cane. After a moment, he summoned his sword, the last he could hold within his armiger, and loosely tied it round his waist. He didn’t sense a daemon in these apparitions, but he had not survived a war and an invasion by being a fool. He winced with every step toward the door, favoring his bad leg, and found the hallway empty.

So that’s how it was. Regis made his slow, careful way to the chamber of the Crystal, and wondered, for a brief moment, if he shouldn’t double back and contact Noctis. If the Crystal and the old Kings believed he had failed them, the ring could well reject him in some way. He hadn’t heard of such a thing happening after the initial judgment had passed, not even when one of his predecessors had succumbed to such a hunger for power that his daughter had to take the ring from him by force. But perhaps what that king did in his life did not matter to the Crystal, in the end. Only his death, and the strength that the Crystal absorbed through him.

“Oh dear,” he said to himself, as he pushed open the doors to the chamber. “Noct’s talent for blasphemy must be catching.”

The Crystal hung in the air some yards away. Beneath it, the vision of his son stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at Regis with an unfamiliar smile.

 _Come and see._ The boy’s image flickered out, and Regis was alone.

Regis sighed. He stepped forward, his breath labored with exertion, and lifted his hand to the Crystal’s jagged mouth.


	7. Revelations

In the darkness of the MT transport carrier, Ignis pulled the group into a loose huddle. They were some distance away from Ardyn, who was cheerfully speaking to the pilot and casting amused glances their way, but it meant that they were closer to the seats that held down the unused MT soldiers. The MTs were strapped in by thick belts and looping wires, some hollow like IV strings, others sparking with electricity. Prompto kept jumping every time one of them jerked or shuddered in their bonds, and Noct had to drag him off to the side after he started running short of breath.

“Easy, Prom,” he said. His voice was hoarse from his ordeal with the Archaeon, and barely rose above a whisper. “They won’t move unless they’re unplugged, okay?”

“Yeah,” Prompto said, sounding unconvinced. “Sure.”

“Stay with me, man,” Noct said. He kept a hand on Prompto as they re-joined the group, and couldn’t help but note the way the blonde continued to tremble slightly. They needed to get out, and fast.

“We can’t be sure where Ardyn plans to take us,” Ignis was saying. “And we cannot overcome him as we are. Unless… Lady Lunafreya. The mark of the Archaeon?”

Luna looked more shaken than Prompto. “I don’t know,” she said. Her voice cracked. “I’m not sure how it works, for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Noct said. Luna didn’t respond, and Ignis coughed awkwardly.

“Yes, well. We’ll need a plan of attack should he lead us into enemy hands.”

“Which he will,” Gladio said. “So _I_ say we—“

Luna stood. “One moment, please.”

They barely had time to react. Luna strode towards the front of the ship, and croaked out, “Prince Noctis? How do you open the bay doors?”

Noct replied automatically. “Black lever on the right. Wait. Luna, don’t—“

Luna ignored him. She ran the last few feet to the lever, yanked it down with both hands, and raced for the doors as they slowly creaked open. Trees flicked by as the carrier passed over the hills of Duscae, and Luna rocked forward on her heels for one moment before flinging herself into the open air.

“Sweet hell!” Prompto shouted. Noct staggered to the doors and threw himself into a falling warp after the plummeting Oracle. He missed her by five feet, dragged his blade into the side of a tree for all of half a minute, lost his grip and fell the rest of the way. He caught a frantic glimpse of Luna above him, hands on her trident, using it to swing herself down to the safety of a thick patch of underbrush, before his vision went black.

\---

“I admit, that could have gone better,” Ignis said, as the scorched, bleeding, and limping crew stumbled their way into the bright lights of the Wiz Chocobo Post. 

“I _am_ very sorry,” Luna said, “but I wasn’t about to sit passively by.”

“Which means you aren’t sorry,” Gladio said, readjusting his grip on the unconscious prince slung over his shoulder. He had spent the entire trek to safety staring after Luna with mingled awe and respect, and Ignis and Prompto were amused to find that the glimmer of hero-worship was starting to shine in his eyes. 

Prompto limped up to the door of the caravan they’d rented for the night. “Guys, I just want to sleep. Forever.”

“Let’s hope the prince doesn’t follow suit,” said Gladio. He ducked as he followed Prompto in, and dumped Noct onto one of the open bunks. The prince shifted a little, twisting his head to the side, but didn’t wake.

Luna followed after Ignis. “I healed the concussion completely, so it isn’t that,” she said. “He’s just… out.” 

“Let him be, then,” Ignis said. “He hardly gets any sleep as it is.”

Prompto collapsed on one of the other bunks and took out his camera. Gladio sat next to Noct, talking softly to Ignis as the advisor wrangled the small stove into obedience. Luna leaned against Prompto and ran her hands over his bad ankle, reducing the swelling, and laughed when Prompto snapped a few shots of her pensive scowl “for posterity.” The two of them ended up conducting a minor photoshoot, with Luna struggling to look more and more stern and forbidding while Prompto cried in a dreadful mimicry of Ignis’ accent, “That’s it! Show us the _powah_ of the _rogue Oracle!_ ” 

“I don’t know if I should be offended,” Ignis said, after a minute of this. Luna cast him a vaguely apologetic look before bursting into helpless laughter at Prompto’s cry of “Mm, yee-ars, excellent!”

Then Noct let out a soft whimpering sound, and Luna sobered. She looked at Gladio, who had laid a hand on Noct’s shoulder, stopping the prince from curling up into a defensive slouch.

“I heard him shout himself awake the other night,” she said. “Has it always been this way?”

“Not before he put on the ring,” Ignis said. “What do you say, Gladio?”

Gladio hummed. “I don’t know, Iggy. He woke up a few times when he first came to the palace. Calling for Ardyn, I think. But we stopped putting a guard in his room about five months ago, so I’m not sure.”

Luna broke the heavy silence. “What happened to him, when he was in the Empire? Ravus—my brother—he told me that he’d met the chancellor’s son, once or twice. Understand, he never talked about his work in the army. Something about Noct disturbed him enough that he wanted to tell me… He just said that something wasn’t right, and to… Not speak to him if I saw him.”

“Yeah, like you’d listen to _that_ advice,” said Prompto.

“You know me too well, and are therefore not allowed to comment,” Luna shot back. Prompto flashed her a smile. 

Gladio shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about it,” he said. “Not much. When we first met, we were… Gods, Iggy, were we eighteen? Nineteen? He was still a kid, maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet, a scrawny teenager who talked like Ardyn and fought like a killer.”

“He took an MT anchor to the chest like it was a lifeline,” Ignis said, in a shaking voice. “There was blood on the stone when he—“

“Iggy. Don’t.”

Ignis turned aside and fell silent.

“Sometimes I think he still wants to go back,” Gladio said. “Not completely, but—You saw how he was when we were in the car with Ardyn? The way he looked at him?”

“Like he was hurting,” Luna said. “It’s not the same as wanting to go back, Gladiolus.” She stood and made her way to the bed, and placed a hand on the side of Noct’s forehead. “Ravus is like him, in some ways. He wants to do right, but he’s been trapped for so long that he doesn’t know what right is anymore. At least Noctis had the chance to escape.” 

Her hands began to glow with the familiar light of her magic, and the others looked at her in surprise. “I want to try something,” she said, softly. “Maybe I can—“ She blinked, quickly, and her hand slipped. The others cried out as she fell, eyes rolling up to show the whites under her drooping eyelids, to the bed at Noct’s side.

\---

_Luna’s bare feet kicked up dust on the red rock of Leide. She looked up into a sky obscured by high, black trees and rocky outcroppings, and heard the sound of music winding through a tangle of sagebrush at her right. She followed the sound, and arrived in a wide clearing full of people. They looked vaguely like Lucians, to Luna’s eye, though their lips were thinner and their hair as fair as the citizens of Niflheim. A girl ran by with a long ribbon of lace and knotted string in her hands, trailed by a procession of small children, all gripping their own segments of the string in tight fists. In the center of the clearing sat a monstrous figure shaped from tree branches and twine, with a sackcloth doll strapped in a makeshift chair at the center._

_“It’s the Accursed,” said a voice at her side. She turned to see Prince Noctis sitting at the edge of the clearing, his knees drawn up to his chest. “It must be close enough to when he lived that they remember he used to have a throne.” He ran a hand over his face and squinted his eyes shut for a moment._

_“Do you have this dream often?” Luna asked. It was not the question she wanted to ask, but like all dreams, it was hard to find the right words._

_“Not this one.” Noct pointed to the construction in the center of the crowd. “They’ll set it on fire soon. Then Ardyn will kill them.”_

_Luna shuddered. “Can you wake up?” she asked._

_“When the Crystal lets me. This is a punishment, I guess.” He looked up at her. “I’m so sorry, Luna. I wanted to purify the Scourge, but not at your expense. I didn’t think the Astrals would bind themselves to _you._ ”_

_He looked so wretched that Luna knelt at his side and took his face in her hands._

_“It’s alright,” she said. “We’ll figure it out together. And…” She looked out at the laughing crowd. “When I sent my magic into Ardyn, back in Lestallum, I could _feel_ the strength of the Scourge. I think it’s possible.” In the dream, she couldn’t feel her heartbeat, so she was strangely set apart from the knotted fear that would otherwise stop her from saying something so outlandish. “With your help, and the Crystal’s power, we might be able to do it.”_

_“Thank you,” Noct said, in a small voice. He winced at the sound of crackling leaves, and Luna turned to see the towering mass of tree litter go up in flames. “Don’t look, Luna,” he said, desperately. “Please. Don’t look—“_

_\---_

Noctis woke to the smell of bacon frying on the caravan stove. When he opened his eyes, he saw Luna staring at him, her hands still holding either side of his face. They broke apart awkwardly, Luna rolling to her feet, Noct smacking into the wall of solid muscle that was Gladio. 

“Were you really—“ he asked. 

“I think I was—“ Luna said. 

They stared at each other a moment longer. 

“I’m just gonna go right out and say it,” Prompto said, from his seat at the other end of the caravan. “Magic is _weird._ ” 

“Eat something, both of you,” Ignis said. “It’ll do you good. And please eat the lettuce this time, Noctis.” 

Noct made a face at the plate the advisor handed over, but was too startled and dizzy to voice an objection. He ate in silence while Luna, to his surprise, described the whole dream to the others in detail. He made noncommittal noises when she asked for his insights, and felt a little more than embarrassed when the others started weighing in as well. It made the weight of the dreams easier to have them out in the open like this, and he felt a bit ashamed that if it weren’t for Luna, the others would barely know a thing. Finally, when Luna started asking for details of other recurring visions, Noct reluctantly complied. 

“This is… more distressing than I expected,” Ignis said, at last. “We knew he was carrying the Scourge, and that he'd been chosen by the Astrals, but... You’re saying that Ardyn was a king?” 

“Could’ve been King,” Noct corrected him. His phone buzzed—this was the third time since they’d started talking—and he set it on the bed behind him. “He never got the chance.” 

“And an Oracle,” Gladio said. “That’s why he looked so dodgy when he saw you, Luna. Must’ve been a real blast from the past.” 

“How are we gonna convince the Astrals, though?” Prompto asked. “These dreams all seem to be pointing to Ardyn as someone to kill, not purify, right? And the Titan didn’t seem really happy about whatever you guys were doing.” 

“I can speak to one of my messengers,” said Luna. “Gentiana. I sent Pryna and Umbra to her—she should be bringing them back any day now. With her help, I can forge the covenants with the other Astrals, to give us the strength we need.” 

“Maybe they can convince the Crystal to leave me alone, too,” Noct said, dryly. His phone rang again, and he cursed. “Look guys, I need to take this.” 

He picked up his phone and stared at the screen. Five missed calls from Nyx, three from… Clarus Amicitia? 

“Gladio,” he asked, slowly. “Why is your dad calling my phone?” 

Gladio scrambled for his own phone. “Mine’s dead. Shit.” 

“Give me a potato and a bowl of water and I can fix that for you,” offered Prompto, as Noct rose from the bed. Noct left the others debating the use of root vegetables as a power source, and hit the redial button for his last missed call. 

Nyx picked up at the first ring. 

“Noct. Thank the Six. Where are you?” 

Noct stepped out of the caravan and squinted. “Wiz Chocobo Post. What’s going on? Why is _Clarus_ trying to call me?” 

“Stay where you are.” Noct could hear the whir of a motor running over the other end of the line. “It’s… Look, you gotta promise me you’ll be calm.” 

“That isn’t helping, Nyx.” 

“It’s the King.” Noct froze, and for a moment, the air around him felt cold and impossibly heavy. “We found him in front of the Crystal a few hours ago. He’s alive, but he isn’t— He isn’t responsive. The doctors don’t know why. They say his body’s fine, but something may have happened to his mind, or his magic, and—Noct? Noct, are you there?” 

“I’m here.” Noct’s voice sounded distant to his own ears. 

“I’m coming to you, alright? I’ll tell you the details when I get there, just stay put. Don’t do anything stu—“ 

Noct hung up. 

He looked out over the colorful banners of the outpost, past the lines of sleeping chocobos, towards the sun slowly rising beyond the smoky glass of the Meteor. It was then that the strange, unsettling feeling that had been creeping over him finally fell into a horrible clarity. For the first time since he had slipped on the ring and faced the judgment of the old kings, the voice of the Crystal was deathly silent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....  
>  Y'all have no clue how close I came to straight-up killing Regis. I ended up _whining_ to my wife like, "I've been putting in all this foreshadowing... but Regis is too clever to just let this happen... and Noct would go into full-on Omen mode..." and she kindly suggested an alternative. I also whined on the internet, too, so thank you, thank you, to those of you who assured me that killing him off for angst purposes would be a bad idea.
> 
> Don't worry, Nyx is on the way with exposition and a badass motorcycle!


	8. Nyx

“Stay with me, son.”

Something was holding Nyx’s eyes shut. He tried to lift his hand to his face, but he couldn’t seem to find it—His fingers struck cloth, instead, warm and pliant under his touch. A little further up, and there was the rough scrape of a beard, a sharp jaw that clenched as his hand fell from it. Nyx wondered if he had died after all. There was a tradition in Galahd that the dead were brought to the other shore by the ghosts of their closest kin—Nyx couldn’t remember if his father had a beard when he was alive. Perhaps he’d grown one during the war. Nyx wished he could see it. 

“Dad?” he asked. It hurt to speak. Why did it still hurt? “Dad, I can’t see—“

“You’ll be fine,” said his father. Something was wrong with his voice. It was smoother, lower, not as lilted as it had been before. “You’ve been in the dark for some time.”

Yes. Nyx remembered, now. When the war had come to his door, and he’d lost sight of his sister’s body in the press of panicked feet and the stuttering roar of cannon fire, he’d found shelter in a small stone outbuilding. Then there’d been an almighty sound of screeching and tearing and stones trembling about him, and he was pressed down into the dark. How long did he lie there, breathing in dust, before his father had come to take him to the other shore?

He should have been embarrassed to be lifted in his father’s arms so easily. Nyx had turned fourteen two months ago, had worn his first braid as a true man. He should have been able to walk on his own to the shores of the dead. But the arms that held him were strong and sure, and it had been so long, so long since he’d seen his father…

There was a dizzying rush of movement, and then he was lowered to what felt like a stone floor. Stone? But the dead were meant to pass through a beach of sand so fine it felt like air, according to the poets. Calloused fingers brushed the cloth over his eyes.

“The light here shouldn’t hurt you so badly,” his father said, and there was a terrible flash of orange fire as the cloth was lifted. Nyx squinted into it for a long, long moment before he could see where he was: A small room in an abandoned house, the furniture stripped and belongings strewn in a hurry to escape the front lines of the war. And there, kneeling before him, a man he knew. Nyx’s mother had kept a portrait of him up next to the window in their kitchen, and his sister used to make fun of how short his hair was, but he wasn’t his father.

Nyx looked up into the eyes of the King of Lucis, and knew the terrible truth at last. The shores of the dead lay beyond his reach. He was alive, and alone, and there was no one left to guide him through the long years to come.

 

\---

 

It was years later, before Nyx and his old friend Libertus took their oaths as Kingsglaive, when Nyx learned that the King had lost his son not long before the attack on Galahd. Nyx had wondered what would possess a king to drag some bleeding scrap of a teenager over four miles of enemy territory to safety, what would cause the monarch to take such a personal interest in his and Libertus’ training. Even the introduction of Crowe, a half-wild girl with a talent for magic that terrified most of the other trainees, made sense in this context. In the wake of the prince’s disappearance, the King was slowly filling the Citadel with what older Glaives referred to as ‘strays.’ 

When Nyx spoke his oath before the captain and his King, he noted Regis’ graying hair, the ever present sorrow in his eyes, and made a private vow that he would follow his example. He would take his own loss and shape it into a steel purpose: He would never leave the wounded behind, never question his duty to the lost and abandoned. And when his time came, and he took his sister’s hand at the shores of the dead, he would emerge on the other side a hero.

 

\---

 

“Oh, hells,” Libertus whispered, one hand holding Nyx’s shoulder down in an iron grip. “Tell me you ain’t goin’ in there.”

Nyx stood ten feet back from the open doors to the chamber of the Crystal, trying to gauge how long he had to run. The bodies of Crownsguard soldiers told him much of what he needed to know. The one that had run the farthest had made it only five feet before he collapsed, spitting blood, and lay unmoving on the cold stone. The other three had barely made it through the door. 

At Nyx’s left, Clarus Amicitia looked like he was about to charge in himself. That wouldn’t do. He had to _think,_ and fast. The King lay well within the chamber, covered by a protective wall of magic—he must have thrown it up himself before he’d fallen. No one could tell at this distance whether he was alive or dead, and the magic of the Crystal _screamed_ in Nyx’s awareness, drowning out his ability to sense any magic flowing from Regis’ prone form. 

The King’s wall of protection was already starting to crack.

“A barrier,” Nyx said, at last. He turned, and saw Crowe reeling against the wall, overwhelmed by the magic pouring from the crystal. “Crowe. I need you.”

“You always need me, baby,” she said, with a weak smile. “I mean, Captain.” He let that slide, and took her hand when she reached him. 

“Can you make it?” he asked. She nodded. 

“Think so.”

“Oh, no,” Libertus said. “You ain’t sendin’ _Crowe_ into that—“

“Question my authority when we get out of here,” Nyx said. “Now, Crowe.”

His friend called up a high wall of light, and the two of them staggered into the room.

The power of the Crystal almost took them at once, even with the barrier to protect them. The scream of its magic reached a pitch that dizzied them, made Nyx’s legs weak and Crowe’s hands tremble. Nyx held onto her as they made their way towards the King, and Crowe waved her fingers at the King’s wall, absorbing its magic to strengthen her own. Nyx lifted the King into his arms—So light, for a man barely out of his prime—and they backed out, stumbling over the bodies of the dead Crownsguard behind them. Crowe’s barrier cracked just before they reached the door, and they turned to run, leaving her barrier hissing and shattering at the gap in the doors. The two of them collapsed at Clarus and Libertus’ feet, and Crowe swept a trail of blood from her nose.

“Can’t do that again,” she said. “It felt like that thing was trying to _drain_ me.”

“It’s draining _him,_ ” Nyx said, as Clarus bent to examine the King. Regis’ skin was warm, and his heart beat sluggishly in his chest, but Nyx could tell that his magic was being pulled from him, siphoned into the Crystal. “You need to get him out of the Citadel, sir.”

“I’ll bring him to my home,” Clarus said. “Thank the Six he’s alive.”

_The Six had nothing to do with it,_ Nyx thought, looking at Crowe. Aloud, he said, “We need to find Noctis. If the Crystal’s gone haywire, something must’ve happened.”

Libertus rolled his eyes. “Sticking up for the Niff again,” he mumbled. Nyx cast him a stern look. Noct was starting to gain a standing in the Kingsglaive, but the older members of their crew didn’t have the same opinion of the kid as their new captain. 

“He’s the King’s son,” Nyx reminded him, in a low voice. “Crowe, you okay?”

“Hangin’ on,” Crowe said, with a grin.

“Good. I need you to take command while I’m gone. Keep our mages with the King at all times. Whatever this is, it’s magical.” He stood and picked up his phone.

“Let me guess,” Libertus said. “You’re gonna to find the errant prince yourself?”

“That tone sounds dangerously like insubordination,” Nyx said, and ignored the rude gesture Libertus made in response. He looked to Clarus, who was gazing down on the King with a stricken expression. “Sir. I trust you’ll keep him safe.”

“I can certainly try,” Clarus said. 

Nyx nodded at the older man and pulled out his phone, already making his way up the stairs and towards the upper levels of the Citadel. He knew Noct, or so he hoped. The kid was already dedicated to Regis, more than he probably admitted to himself. The news could send him into a spiral, if Nyx wasn’t careful. He would have to head out now, and pray that the prince’s entourage kept a close watch on him. Now was not a time for the prince of Lucis to be alone with his thoughts.

 

\---

 

Noct sat alone at the edge of the outpost, looking out at the bright lights of Lestallum winking on in the dim grey of dusk. 

The others had tried to help. Luna had spent a good half hour with her hands over the ring, trying to use her own magic to bring the Crystal’s voice to light. Ignis had made tea to help him sleep, and Gladio had suggested they beat the tar out of each other in training to clear their heads. Prompto, in a moment of helpless panic, had dragged Noct to look at the chocobos for a while, because _All this magic’s gonna mess with you, bro._

In the end, Noct had extricated himself from their company, and chose to sit in silence while they pretended not to watch him. 

The Crystal was punishing him. He knew that for sure, even without the disturbing dreams and sudden radio silence. It was as though the thing were throwing a cosmic temper tantrum, and now it was lashing out at what Noct loved most in a misguided attempt to make him behave.

Was this what it had done to Ardyn? He’d been shaped into a hero, a chosen king, and when his role corrupted him, he was cast aside as a failure of his own making. Now, two thousand years later, Noct was being punished for daring to think that there might be something left of Ardyn to be saved. Was it _his_ fault that the prophecy had gone to hell, or was it the Astrals’ fault for setting up a flawed prophecy in the first place? The old kings had called him scion of the Scourge as well as a descendant of Lucis. Maybe, if he’d never met Ardyn, things would be different. If he’d grown up believing himself to be a chosen king, he wouldn’t even question the role the gods had made for him. He wasn’t sure which he preferred: Mindless obedience, or the terrifying retribution that came with free choice.

He looked up at the sound of paws scrabbling on stone.

There, a few yards away, walked Pryna and Umbra. Their tails were lifted like proud banners, their noses high, and their eyes glowed gold like the light of Luna’s magic. Between them walked a woman in black robes, her dark hair framing her face like a curtain. Her eyes were closed, but she didn’t falter as she walked up the stone outcropping behind the outpost.

_Gentiana,_ he thought, remembering what Luna had told him that morning. One of the Oracle’s spiritual messengers. Noct tensed, suddenly fearful. Why was she coming to _him_ and not Luna? 

“Pryna,” Noct said, but the dog looked past him, and did not stray from the heels of the woman beside her. Gentiana stopped before Noctis, and both dogs sat at once, boxing him in on either side. 

“You would have been called King of the Stone,” the spirit said, “in another life.”

“You’re not going to explain that, are you?” Noct asked. Gentiana’s smile broadened, but she did not open her eyes. She knelt before him, and Noct smelled cold water and pine; The air of Niflheim. 

“In another life,” Gentiana said, “you took a different path. You formed the covenants with five, you slew the sixth. You took the power of the Crystal for your own and gave of yourself to destroy the Scourge.” She held his hands in hers, and he shivered at her touch. “In this life, you have rejected the gods. The Six have little faith in humanity’s ability to save itself; You no longer have their favor.”

“I never wanted their _favor,_ ” Noct started, and the woman placed a finger over his lips. Her eyes opened, and he felt as though he were slipping from the earth beneath him and into a whispering void.

“You never needed it,” she said, as Noct struggled to break contact with her gaze. “But the wrath of the one who holds the Crystal is formidable. You must be ready to face him.”

“Him?” Noct closed his eyes, and the dizzying feeling of weightlessness left him. “The voice? The one that’s been speaking _as_ the Crystal? That’s a _person?_ A god?”

“Yes.” 

“And he tried to _kill_ my father?” Noct opened his eyes, and thankfully, Gentiana had closed hers. “How would that make me do what he wants?”

“He knows that you are too much like your predecessor, little prince,” she said. “You will never be the chosen king. You are the Oracle’s sword, perhaps, the sometime bearer of the ring, but nothing more.” She rose. “It has been two millennia since a King of Light has rejected his blessing. It will be interesting to see what happens now.” 

She walked around him, heading towards the outpost, but the dogs remained. Pryna snapped out of her silent attention first and wriggled under Noct’s left arm, exposing her belly. Umbra put on a dignified look and stamped onto Noctis’ lap, where he collapsed with a heavy sigh. Noct pet them for a moment, and looked out over the field towards the faraway Meteor.

“When this is over,” he said, “I’m going to live in the woods and never speak to anyone again.”

“Yeah, not your best plan, kid,” said a low, slightly breathless voice behind him. He turned, and saw Nyx climbing over one of the outlying fences, looking too polished and out of place in his Kingsglaive captain’s uniform. “See you made some friends.”

Noct rose, shedding disgruntled dogs in his wake, and clasped Nyx’s arms. The older man winced.

“Careful,” he said, and Noct drew back. Then he sighed and pulled Noct in by the shoulders, holding him tight. Noct startled at the sudden contact: He’d never been touched quite so often as he had since coming to Insomnia. _It must be a cultural thing,_ he thought, dazed. It took him a moment to realize that he was gripping Nyx’s shoulders just as tightly—And then all of the stress and confusion of the past two days was breaking over him in a wave, and he held to the other man as though he were the last bulwark against being swept away entirely. He closed his eyes and struggled to breathe, to stay calm, and sank his forehead onto Nyx’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Nyx said, in a strangely distant voice. “Stay with me, kid. Stay with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dragging myself out of the mire of one writer's block and into the quicksand of another. Good times! Ha ha!
> 
> Honestly, this was just. So hard to write? It was originally just Exposition time! The Expositioning! It was the first few chapters of Eragon levels of exposition, if that gives you any idea. (Not knockin' Eragon, just--there was a bit there where Bronn? Brann? That guy? was talking and it was like he was upchucking a wikipedia entry for a solid two pages. That's what Nyx was originally going to do in this chapter.)
> 
> So instead, you get backstory, because otherwise this thing was just not going to move forward at all.
> 
> Also, YOU get a daddy issue! YOU get a daddy issue! EVERYONE GETS DADDY ISSUES!!!!!


	9. The Oracle's Ascension

“I’m not sure if I approve.” 

Luna leaned on the window of the Wiz Chocobo Post transport truck, keeping her voice low. Her hair was soaked with rain and tinged with blue in the glare of the outpost lights, and she wore Nyx’s jacket over a novelty Chocobo carnival dress Prompto had lifted from the convenience store. The effect made her look awkward and gangly, and Noct grinned at her as he and Ignis wheeled Nyx’s motorcycle to the side of the truck.

Nyx didn’t look up from where he sat in the front seat. “Desperate times, princess. Percival, you have the wrong wire, let go.”

“Dude,” Prompto said, batting his hand out of the way. “ _Prompto._ And I’ve done this before. Let me work my magic.” 

There was a quiet scrabbling between the two of them, and then a spark leapt between Nyx’s fingers, bringing the engine to life. He gave Prompto a smug look. 

“Alright,” he said. “Mr. Scientia, the van is yours. Come on, princess.” He climbed out of the truck and took the motorcycle from Noct and Ignis. Luna glanced from him to Prompto, sighed, and followed after the soldier.

It had been Nyx’s idea to steal the truck. The Regalia was gone, and after Luna marked the places they needed to go to communicate with Ramuh, one of the more understanding of the Six, it was decided that they had no time to go by foot. Nyx’s report from the capital was too troubling—The longer they waited, the higher the chance was that the god who dwelled in the crystal would try to take matters into his own hands again. Luna and Nyx took the motorcycle, and the others piled into the truck with the dogs, driving off into the heart of an oncoming storm.

Nyx was a terrifying driver. Prompto kept leaning over the edge of the window as the Kingsglaive captain wove the bike around daemons that heaved themselves onto the street, and Noct watched as Luna leaned with him to give the bike extra leverage on sharp corners.

“She’s something _else,_ ” he said, over the roar of the wind. Gladio snorted. 

“Reckless as hell,” said his shield. “Like you.” Noct pushed his shoulder and let out a whoop as Ignis steered the truck around a hissing Reaper. 

“You are far too pleased with this!” Ignis cried. Noct laughed, and rose on his knees in the truck bed to watch the daemons disappear into the distance. 

Rain fell in full force by the time they made it to the first marker. Ignis slipped in the slick mud of the slope twice, and Gladio had to keep a hand under his arm to steady him. Umbra and Pryna were both caked with mud and barked furiously every time lightning struck. Noct gave up trying to keep his hair up and untied it, letting it fall down his back, and Luna was shivering despite the jacket. Prompto caught up with her and took her hand, and the smile she gave him was weak and unsure.

“She’s tough,” Nyx said, falling in next to Noct. The prince nodded, too focused on staying upright. “You think it’ll be enough? To do what you need to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Noct. “She’s our only chance, now.”

Nyx gave him a searching look, and scruffed the back of his hair, nearly making him overbalance. “I like you better this way,” he said. “All that chosen hero bullshit sounded a lot like dressing up a sacrificial lamb.”

“Thanks,” Noct said, dripping with sarcasm. “You always know what to say.”

“It’s a blessing _and_ a curse, your highness.” They all flinched as lightning flashed a brilliant white before them, and Luna cried out. The Oracle ran towards a short, glowing tree nestled between two rocks, and turned back to Noctis with fear in her eyes. 

“Prince Noctis,” she called. “I don’t think I can—“

“On it,” Noct said. He scrambled up to her and grabbed her hand. “Like before, right?” She nodded, and Noct held onto her as her fingertips touched the tree. Noctis doubled over as the power of the storm dragged through him and into Luna, frantically calling on the light of the crystal to act as a ward against the raw energy that surged from the tree. His legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees, holding on to Luna’s hand with both of his. 

When it was done, Luna remained standing. She reached out and brushed the curtain of dark hair back from Noct’s face, her gaze soft.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, I’m fine,” Noct lied. Slowly, he forced himself to rise. “The covenant’s too strong for one person to handle, Luna. I can’t let you take it all alone.”

The Oracle sighed and held Noct’s cheek. Her hand tingled with magic, bright and fierce and so strong that Noct felt his nerves ache with it. When she looked at him, a violet spark shone in her dark eyes.

“Two more to go,” she said, and turned towards the others.

After the second marker had been absorbed, it didn’t take long for the men accompanying her to notice something had changed. 

Ignis was the first to catch on. They were wandering through a cave, heading towards the last marker, and had just wiped out a band of imps in a narrow tunnel. The advisor grabbed Noct by the arm and pulled him back a step, and lowered his voice to a whisper.

“I can’t help but notice,” he said, “that the daemons are acting… strange.”

“Strange, how?” Noct asked. Ignis raised his eyebrows. 

“The next time we fight them, pay attention to Luna.” Ignis said. “I can’t be certain. I’ll need a second pair of eyes.”

“You already _have_ a—“

“Oh, don’t you start.” 

But then Prompto, leaning into a hole in the wall, was taken by one of the daemons, and no one had _time_ to watch each other after that, not when they were too busy racing after the sound of his frantic voice. When they reached him, the blonde was being swarmed, and Luna pushed past Gladio and Ignis to grab him by the arm. That was when what Ignis had seen became painfully clear.

The daemons tripped over each other in their mad dash to stumble out of her way. They left Luna and Prompto in a loose circle, hissing at her as though she were a patch of sunlight in the dark. She turned to the others in confusion, and the spell broke. 

The ensuing fight was a quick one, but Noct saw how even as they braved the distance, the daemons were careful not to come too close to the Oracle. Even the wretched naga that had tried to spirit away Prompto shuddered before her, giving the others the time to slay the creature before it could make a second attempt. 

“Luna,” Noct said, as they pushed aside the daemon’s remains. “What _was_ that?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never been this close to a daemon before, but… this feels…” She looked down at her hands as though they belonged to someone else. “I can’t say.”

“Let’s figure it out once we’re _out_ of the pit where I nearly got eaten,” Prompto said. “Please.”

When they reached the final marker, Luna pushed Noct aside. She approached the last tree alone, hands outstretched, and when her booted foot stepped into the pool at the base of the tree, the others were blinded by a searing strike of lightning. It held the Oracle in its grip, and Luna’s feet slowly rose from the ground as the pillar of electricity crawled over her skin and twined about her hair. Purple streaks of magic struck out at the stone in the small cavern, and Gladio had to pull Noct aside as debris rained down upon them. Frozen in the light, Luna looked less like the stubborn, strong-willed young woman they knew and more like a goddess, distant and terrifying and untouchable.

When the light faded at last, Luna settled on her feet and turned bright purple eyes to her companions.

“The covenant is formed,” she said, in the language of the old kings. “Let us go.”

She left the cave in silence, and the daemons fell before her like a wave before the wind. The men followed at her heels, and when they met Umbra and Pryna at the entrance, they saw sunlight gleaming over rain-slicked trees, the dazzling blue of a cloudless sky, and the dark steel of Imperial ships touching down on the earth before them.

 

\---

The bay doors of the nearest transport carrier set down with a hiss several yards away from the straight-backed Oracle. The sleeves of Nyx’s jacket flapped from her shoulders like a cloak, and she lifted her chin at the sight of the white-robed man who strode out into the midday sun to meet her.

“Oh, I know _this_ guy,” Noct said, drawing even with Luna. He tugged at the sleeves of his coat and swept back his long hair, grinning a little too widely for comfort. When the man in the transport carrier saw him, there was a ring of steel as a long sword was drawn from its sheath. 

“No.” Ravus Nox Fleuret quickened his pace, leveling his sword at Noctis’ throat. Behind him, Noct could hear Gladio’s surefooted approach. “I know who _you_ are, and you have no place here.”

“Ravus,” said Luna, sharply.

Noct tucked his hands in his coat pockets. “No, no,” he said. “Do go on, General. It’s General now, isn’t it?”

“Step _away_ from my sister,” Ravus said, in a voice tight with anger. “I will _not_ stand for the Chancellor’s interference in this.” 

Noct moved forward on his heels, a knifelike smile on his lips, and the tip of the blade pressed into his skin. Ravus’ eyes narrowed.

“As commander of Niflheim’s armed forces,” Ravus said, “I _order_ you to fall back.”

“ _I_ don’t take orders from _you,_ ” Noct said. He could feel the cold trickle of blood trailing down his neck. “No one does. You’re just the Emperor’s Tenebraean _dog._ ”

“And you’re the Chancellor’s slave,” Ravus spat. Noct jerked as thin fingers grabbed him by the hair, yanking him out of range of the sword. Luna stepped in front of him, and Ravus rocked back. 

“If the two of you are done with your, your—“

“Pissing contest,” said a gruff voice from behind them. Noct was shoved unceremoniously behind Gladio, who held him back like a disobedient puppy. “The term you’re looking for is _pissing contest,_ princess.”

“Yes,” said Luna, archly. She glared at Noct, who shrugged. “Ravus, you should know that Prince Noctis hasn’t been in the Empire’s hands in nearly a year.”

Ravus’ eyes widened. “Prince Noctis—“ He stared at Noct, who bowed. 

“Otherwise known as the Chancellor’s slave,” he said, helpfully. “No one told you? You, the _commander_ of Niflheim’s _armed forces?_ ”

“Don’t make it worse,” hissed Gladio. 

Ravus looked visibly shaken, but he rallied well, turning to Luna. “We can discuss this later,” he said. “I have been ordered to return you to Niflheim, where—“ 

“You won’t,” said Luna. She eyed the other transport carriers, which were unloading rows upon rows of MT soldiers. “I have business I need to settle, Ravus.”

“Luna.” Ravus’ voice lowered to a savage whisper. “I cannot return empty handed. If you don’t—“

“Then don’t return,” said Luna. Her tone was cold. “You made your bed, Ravus. Remove your troops now, or I’ll remove them for you.”

Ravus opened his mouth, stared from Luna to Noct, and tightened his grip on his sword. Luna closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they gleamed violet. 

“Stand back, Ravus,” she said. Ignis shouted, and the others turned to see the spectral form of a giant, robed figure towering over them. Even Ravus ducked as the giant’s hand swept down, and Luna stepped onto his massive palm, holding onto his thumb with both hands. Hand and Oracle whisked away into the darkening sky, and a bolt of lightning crackled in the fist of the giant’s right hand.

“Ramuh,” Ignis whispered, at Noct’s side. 

“Luna,” breathed Prompto.

The ground shook as the bolt struck, and the men stumbled to their knees. They stayed there even as the fires of the smoking wreckage receded, even as the sky cleared, even as Ramuh gently lowered the Oracle back to the ground. Luna stood in the midst of her kneeling companions and looked down on the stricken form of her brother.

“Ravus,” she said, gently. “That is the last time I will warn you.”

The commander of Niflheim’s military looked at the charred, smoking slope where his soldiers had stood, and then up at the young woman who wore the face of his sister. His hands flexed as though searching for purchase, his unfocused eyes rolled to the brilliant sky, and he fell back onto the earth before her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit's gettin real, y'all


	10. Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slight filler chapter, because I need something nice.

There wasn’t much any of them could do about General Ravus.

Luna explained, in the firm, no-nonsense way of hers, that if Ravus were to be left alone, the Empire would punish him for letting her go free. Noct saw no problem with this, but he was overruled, and so he found himself crammed in the bed of the truck with Luna, Prompto, Nyx, and a heavily bound Ravus Nox Fleuret. Pryna and Umbra were both too eager to jump out of the back of the truck, and as such had places of honor next to Ignis in the passenger’s seat. Gladio graciously offered to ride Nyx’s motorcycle, though everyone could tell he’d been itching to get his hands on it since Nyx first arrived.

The past day and a half of running, fighting, and watching Luna turn into a breathtaking force of nature was starting to wear on everyone. Noct found himself drifting off and on before Luna was even done explaining where they needed to go next, agreeing without argument that sure, Luna, Altissia sounds fine. Luna, Prompto, and Nyx started up a quiet discussion about the merits of magic versus engineering, and Noct finally lent himself to the welcome embrace of sleep.

Noct’s dreams were wavering, transient things, slipping loose from his mind like the rush of a tide through his hands. There he was, sixteen years old, standing in the waters of Cape Caem. The sea surged at his boots and sucked at the body of a great lizard before him, pooling in its cavernous maw. He turned, a hand raised to his eyes as a shield to the sun, and saw the dark shape of his father standing on the road high above. It was his first visit to the shore, and the world had never seemed so beautiful. 

Then he was stumbling through a dark thicket, quick on the heels of a young woman in full armor. Blood ran from his arm, and the woman pushed him back against a stone as the light of passing daemons made the surrounding trees glow orange. He grinned up at her, and she grinned back, quick and dangerous as lightning, cool calculation to his reckless fire. He would not see her again.

Another day at the sea, not long before he learned the truth of his name. Noct stood on a dock and stared into the dark water as the shape of a body sank into formlessness. There was that twisting feeling in his gut, the coil of rage that he held so close to his skin, the tightness of his throat. Ardyn pressed warm lips to his temple, and Noct closed his eyes and lay a hand on his father’s back, trying to hold steady, steady.

“Noctis. We’re almost here.”

Noct could feel metal digging into his spine. He opened his eyes to the sight of an Imperial officer, all white robes and glinting medals, who wore a look of mingled distaste and fear that was as familiar to Noct as the thin air of Niflheim. His first instinct was to back away, to withdraw, but the bulwark that was Ardyn was nowhere to be found. Noct felt as though he were grasping for purchase in the empty air—he raised a hand and made contact with black cloth, silver lining, the straight-shouldered cut of a Kingslaive uniform. He gripped the cloth tight and sought to summon his father’s sword in shaking fingers—

And was thrown to his side, the enemy’s elbow jammed tight in his neck, a knee to his belly, hot breath on his cheek.

“This what you want, Noctis?” The man in black stared down at him, brows knit. “You want to do this _now?_ ”

He knew that voice. Noct shook himself out of the fog of panic and exhaustion and looked into the eyes of Nyx Ulric, a solid and immovable presence above him.

“Nyx,” he croaked, around the pressure on his neck. “I’m—it was the uniform...”

Slowly, the glaive lifted his arm. “You need to work on keeping that shit under control,” he said. Noct massaged his throat and nodded, but stiffened at the sound of laughter.

Ravus shifted in his seat on the other side of the truck bed. His hair was disheveled, and he looked like he’d been dragged through the mud of Duscae, but he still endeavored to look down his nose at Noct as though he were a pet that had done an amusing trick. 

“Every bit as savage as they say you are,” he said. “To think that the chosen king has fallen so _low._ ”

“No lower than you,” Noct said. He turned to see Prompto behind him, hands lifted as though trying to decide whether to brace his back. He smiled faintly, and Prompto tentatively touched his arm. A small comfort, but Noct leaned into it, needing the reminder that he was no longer the man who stalked Ardyn’s heels in the fortresses of the Empire. 

“I chose to be where I am today,” Ravus said, cutting through the brief moment of calm. “I made the best of what I could to help my people. _You_ rolled over and let Ardyn turn you into his beast.”

“Ravus,” Luna said, in a voice thick with sleep. “That’s enough.”

“You are a fool to trust him,” Ravus said to her. 

Prompto released Noct, turning a sharp gaze to their prisoner. “Watch what you say about Luna.”

Ravus let out a bark of laughter. “I will not be lectured by my sister’s _pet Magit—_ ”

Several things happened at once, then. Prompto drew back, eyes wide, a visible tremor running over his skin. Luna sat up in sudden, clear-eyed wakefulness. And Noct, Noct looked from Prompto’s fearful expression to Luna’s flush of rage, turned to Ravus, and struck the commander of Niflheim’s military in the jaw. 

There was a screech as Ignis slammed on the brakes, and everyone lurched in the bed of the truck. Nyx held Noct back by the arms, muscles straining as Noct tried to get another blow in. Prompto backed into the corner, still gripped in terror, and Luna gently lifted her brother to lean him against the side of the truck once more.

“What is going _on_ back there?” Ignis opened the front door of the truck and stepped out onto the road. Ahead of them, Gladio wheeled the motorcycle in a U-turn, heading their way. “Your highness?”

“It’s nothing,” Luna said, tightly. 

“That’s right,” Noct said, wrenching himself from Nyx’s hold. “Just hot air.”

Prompto twisted the bands over his right wrist painfully, and stared at Noct as though he were about to throw him from the truck. “It’s alright,” he said, at last. “I—“

“It fucking isn’t,” said Noct. He turned to Ravus. “Say another word to him, and you’ll see how _savage_ Ardyn made me.”

Ignis thinned his lips in a frown, and gestured for Prompto to follow him into the car. Prompto dutifully climbed out, ignoring Luna’s plaintive looks, and slammed the passenger door behind him. The dogs started barking excitedly, instantly drowning the boy in a mass of fur and paws.

“The hell was that about?” Nyx asked. 

“You heard Luna,” Noct said, looking through the dusty glass of the truck to where Prompto sat next to Ignis. “It’s nothing.”

 

\---

When they arrived at the Quay, Noct was prepared. He rose to his feet before the truck even slowed to turn into the parking lot, making Luna and Nyx glance up in alarm. When Ignis started to back the truck into an empty space, Noct smiled grimly as Prompto swung open the door and rolled onto the concrete. He leapt after the blonde, stumbling to his feet a little ways away, and took off after him as Prompto started to run. 

He threw himself into a short, bladeless warp, landing with a sickening thud on Prompto’s back. The two of them collapsed in the hard-packed sand of the Quay, and Noct locked his arms around Prompto’s middle as the young man tried to scramble free.

“Noct?” Gladio’s voice called out from the other side of the lot, and Noct heard footsteps clattering across the concrete sidewalk. 

“Does Luna know?” he asked. "Is that how Ravus found out?"

Prompto let out a desperate cry, and Noct flipped him onto his back, holding him in place on the sand. “Does Luna know?”

The blonde nodded. Tears welled in his red-rimmed eyes, and his breath came out harsh and shallow. 

“The hell is wrong with you?” Gladio asked, striding up to them like an avenging angel. Noct held up a hand, and the shield rocked back, mouth twisted in fury. The others arrived at a run.

“When did you escape Niflheim, Prompto?” Noct asked, in a low voice. Luna let out a hiss of breath, and the others fell silent.

“ _Noct._ ”

“It’s too late,” Noct said. “You fucked this up when you ran, Prom. Tell them what you are.”

“Prince Noctis!” Luna’s feet squeaked on the sand as she crossed the distance. Prompto looked from her to Noct, mouth agape. The fingers of his right hand clenched tight.

“I’m—“

“ _A Niff,_ ” Noct said, holding Prompto’s shoulders in both hands. Luna froze. Prompto stared up at him, panic giving way to sheer confusion.

“When were you going to tell us, Prom?” Noct asked. “Where you’re from? You think I’d care? You think _they’d_ care? Look at who you’re traveling with, for fuck’s sake.”

“I couldn’t.” Prompto sounded like the words were being wrenched out of him. “What could I do, tell the crown prince that I’m one of… one of _them?_ ”

“ _I’m_ one of them,” Noct said.

“Not like I am!” Prompto cried. “It’s not the same. I’m an _MT._ Like the ones we’ve been _fighting._ ”

“Bullshit.” Prompto stared at Noct in shock. “How old were you, Prom? When you came to Insomnia? When you escaped?”

“One?” Prompto said, sounding a little hysterical. “I don’t remember.”

“So it’s _bullshit,_ ” Noct said. “I was _there,_ okay? I know how this works. Children can’t survive the process. Verstael—the researcher who worked with my, with Ardyn—couldn’t start working on MTs until they hit puberty. All they did to you—are you listening? All they _ever_ did to you was give you that code. You’re as human as I am.” He thought about it, and added, ruefully, “More, probably. And that asshole knows it.” He glared at Ravus, who was still sitting in the truck, bound and helplessly looking on.

Prompto stared at Noct, lips parted.

“It isn’t your fault,” Noct said. 

Prompto bit his lip and closed his eyes, letting out a long breath through his nose. 

“Dude,” he said, at last. “You _suck_ at this.”

“Truer words were never spoken.” Ignis lifted Noct off of Prompto by the back of his collar, and extended a hand to the blonde. “I’ve half a mind to put him in the same state as our new guest. I can, if you don’t object.”

Prompto looked at the hand as though he weren’t sure what to do with it. Behind Ignis, Gladio shrugged.

“You proved yourself to us months ago,” Gladio said. He raised his voice, and turned towards the truck, staring directly at Ravus. “No one’s gonna judge you for somethin’ you can’t control.” 

“Not unless they want us to… what’s the term, Gladio? Come down on them like a ton of bricks?” Ignis looked up at the wall of muscle on his right. Gladio grinned, all teeth.

“Close.”

“Point taken,” Ravus called, his voice very dry.

“It can bear repeating.”

Prompto sighed and covered his face with both hands. Luna shook her head, knelt at his side, and gently pried his hands away. She kissed his blotchy, tearstained cheek, and pressed a hand to the shivering smile he gave her in return.

“You already know how _I_ feel,” she said, and rose to help Prompto to his feet at last.


	11. The Leviathan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I never want to write a Leviathan fight again. Hahaha.

The group was all set to leave Ravus to fend for himself at the Quay (with all of his weapons, gear, and electronics graciously left in Prompto’s eager hands), but Luna’s elder brother insisted on coming along.

“If you’ve dragged my sister into taking on the burden _you_ didn’t want to bear,” he said, with a savage glare in Noct’s direction, “Then someone must protect her.”

“Pretty sure she can protect herself,” Gladio said, winking at Luna. Luna rolled her eyes and flapped a hand at him. 

“She did fine without _your_ protection all these years,” Prompto mumbled, and everyone turned to stare. “What? It’s true.” He and Ravus shot each other equally murderous looks before Luna stepped between them.

“Ravus,” she said, pressing a hand to her brother’s cheek. “You can come along, but only to watch. As long as you are loyal to the Empire—“

“I’m loyal to _you,_ ” he said, in a strangled voice. Prompto huffed in disbelief. “Luna. Please.”

Luna sighed and kissed his cheek, then left him, heading towards the dock. The others discreetly pretended not to notice the furious tears that swam in the General’s eyes as she left, or the way the Oracle’s shoulders seemed straighter, as though she were holding herself up through sheer will alone. Pryna and Umbra ran after her, but not after giving them all an unsettlingly _knowing_ look.

Luna’s messenger, Gentiana, had informed them that they needn’t go all the way to Altissia to see the Leviathan, and reports from the city on the water confirmed it. Chaos had descended on Altissia as the Hydrean rose from her slumber, sending massive waves crashing over the lower levels of the city, and took off like a swift-moving tidal wave towards Galdin. If they left now, they would make it to Angelgard in time to intercept her. If they didn’t…

Well, there was a _reason_ most of the inhabitants of the Quay were currently crowded on the slope above the beach, watching the horizon for the flicker of a wave.

Ignis commandeered a boat for them, and Pryna and Umbra immediately ran to the bow, barking at the ocean as though it had offended their delicate sensibilities somehow. The others watched the dogs warily, uncertain if this was a sign of things to come, and braced themselves for the trip to the distant island.

Prompto, it turned out, was not prone to carsickness alone, and spent most of the journey crouched over the railing while Gladio rubbed soothing circles over his back. Noct stood at the bow with the dogs, watching Angelgard approach, jaw clenched tight. He could feel the tug of the Crystal again, warning him of some intrinsic wrongness in heading to the island so soon. _Not yet,_ it seemed to say, with every lurch of the boat in the choppy sea. Dread coiled heavy in his stomach, and he wrenched his gaze from the island as though it hurt.

 

The Leviathan was waiting for them.

Luna strode forth with all the confidence of the Titan, the Storm, kicking off her boots on the pebbled beach as she approached the massive, wild-eyed goddess. Twisting ropes of water tried to lash her, but Gladio stood at her left side, bracing himself as the ropes glanced off his shield and dragged him down the beach. Then Ignis threw out a prepared flask of fire, enveloping them in a cloud of steam as the Leviathan tried to strike again. The three of them kept this up for ten yards as Luna shouted up at the Astral, giving Noct and Nyx time to warp their way over the sea and onto the Leviathan’s slick scales. She would need to be weakened, first. The goddess of the oceans did not cede to grandstanding alone. 

The moment the Leviathan felt the weight of bodies on her back, she screeched in rage, churning the water about her into a frenzied rush of waves and froth. Gladio had to help hold Luna upright, angling his shield over her, while Ignis slowly ran through his spells one by one. Atop the creature, Noct followd Nyx’s signal to dig under the line of scales at the back of the Leviathan’s neck, while the soldier swung himself under the Astral’s snapping jaws. He hung there a moment, one of his kukris gripped loose in his free hand, before he thrust his arm into the gap between gill and scale and dragged himself down.

Blood sprayed over him, scalding hot on his skin, and Nyx flinched. His hands slipped with the pain and the shock of it as the Leviathan twisted her neck, and her jaw collided with the helmet of his cloak, cracking the silver headpiece. The Glaive fell back, dropping towards the ocean like a bird struck out of the sky.

“Fuck.” Noct kicked off from the back of the Hydrean’s neck and threw himself into a warp, using a ball of magic as his anchor. He warped in stuttering bursts towards Nyx, and pulled the older man close with both hands. He was out cold. Noct knew that it was _possible_ for a king to drag another person into a warp, but he was slipshod at best _without_ added weight to drag him down. But he didn’t have the luxury of thinking it through. The longer he waited, the faster they fell, and if they struck the water from this height without a warp to slow their progress, they’d die on impact.

“Sorry,” he said, grabbing one of Nyx’s kukris from the other man’s belt. He threw it into the water below, and with a shuddering _lurch_ of magic, warped the both of them into the heaving waves.

The shock of the water was enough for Noct to instinctively open his mouth—he coughed, and nearly dropped the man in his arms. The two of them were sinking, dragged down by the weight of their boots and Nyx’s uniform. Noct kicked off his own shoes as he tugged at Nyx’s, then struggled to remove the man’s jacket one-handed. Thankfully, he hadn’t buttoned it after Luna returned it to him, and Noct didn’t wait to watch the heavy leather and silver-buckled cloth disappear into the dark beneath them. He gripped Nyx below the arms and managed, through a force of strength he didn’t know he had, to kick them to the surface.

“You,” he gasped, as he struggled to drape the older man’s body over his own, “better fucking live. Because this. Is not. What I…” 

He looked up. They were floating on the curve of a wave, and Noct could see the Leviathan rear up like a snake over the small form of the Oracle, teeth bared, blood dripping from the gash Nyx had trailed down the Astral’s jaw. Luna flicked her arm upwards, and there was a flurry of white and silver as something—someone—emerged from the empty air behind her. 

It was a woman. Several women, all in blue and white, their hair trailing after them as they swirled around the Leviathan’s body. Then water crashed over Noct’s mouth and eyes, and he felt the weight of an elbow jabbing into his stomach.

“Son of a bi—“ he managed to say, before he sank into the waves.

 

“Gotta admit, the prince sure spends a lot of this trip unconscious.” 

Voices. This one was familiar—low, rough, with a mocking edge. Gladio. What was Gladio doing in the water? Noct thrashed, and felt large, _dry_ hands press down on his arms.

“Easy, kid.” Noct recognized that voice, too. He opened his eyes and tried to roll on his side, but was stopped by the pressure of Gladio’s grip. Nyx was sitting up against a large stone, stripped down with his pants draped over his knees. He ran a hand sheathed in magical fire over the cloth, which steamed. Pryna sat next to him, watching the fire intently. 

“Don’t say _easy_ ,” Noct said, sitting up with Gladio’s help. His own clothes were drenched—It looked like Nyx had the right idea. He started to peel off his wet things, and looked around the group. Gladio, Ignis, Nyx… “Where’s Prompto?” he asked. “And Luna? And the asshole?”

“Ravus is in the boat with Luna,” Ignis said, tactfully not commenting on the General’s new nickname. “Prompto’s probably still, ah…”

“Someone doesn’t have sea legs,” Gladio said, with a grin. “Don’t worry, Noct. Luna formed the covenant while Nyx dragged your sorry ass to shore.”

Noct opened his mouth to protest that _he_ had been the one to save _Nyx’s_ sorry ass this time, but one look at the smirking Kingsglaive stopped him. He knew a lost cause when he saw one. Instead, Noct finished pulling off his clothes and rolled onto his back, luxuriating in the sun. 

“Hey,” Gladio said. “Show some dignity. Even Nyx kept _something_ on.”

“We don’t _have_ dignity in Niflheim,” Noct said. 

“Tell that to General Stick-Up-His-Ass.”

Noct snorted and closed his eyes to the sun, too pleased with being _alive_ and _dry_ to worry about anything else.

The others caught him up to what had happened after he and Nyx fell from the Leviathan. The strange women who had come at Luna’s call turned out to be Gentiana—a fact which needed several retellings to make any sort of sense. How an actual goddess could manage to hide in the guise of a spiritual messenger was anyone’s guess, but when Ignis had asked, Luna had simply flushed scarlet and said that she’d formed a covenant with Gentiana—with Shiva—years ago. 

“She refused to talk about it,” Gladio said. “Red as a beet for half an hour, and Prompto couldn’t stop giggling when he heard. They’re hiding something, I swear.”

“Someone’s _always_ hiding something, in your opinion,” Ignis said. Gladio huffed.

“And they are. When have I been wrong?”

“So,” Noct said, knowing full well that Ignis and Gladio would keep going forever until someone stopped them. “The covenant turned out alright?”

“You should’ve seen it, Noctis.” Nyx’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “Like staring down the _sun._ ”

Noct opened his eyes, giving the captain a once-over. “Sounds like someone’s in love.”

“Aren’t you?” Nyx asked. “Aren’t all of us, a little?”

“Something like,” admitted Ignis. “It makes you wonder what would have happened if Noct—“

Noct got up with a groan, shedding pebbles. _This_ was one subject he was happy to avoid. He dragged his half-dried clothes over and cast a fire spell over them, watching them bake and hiss on the rapidly drying beach.

“It wouldn’t be the same,” he said, at last. “Luna’s something special.”

“I don’t know,” said Nyx. “You’re doing alright.” Noct glanced over at him, and was surprised to see none of the usual humor in the soldier’s eyes. The heat of the fire spell flared, making Noct’s skin go tight and his clothes start to smolder. He yelped and kicked out the flames, and the moment—and whatever it had stirred beneath the surface—was gone.

When they made it back to the ship, Ravus was beside himself.

“You could have _died,_ ” he shouted, as Luna leaned forward in her seat, carefully reapplying Prompto’s eyeliner with a steady hand. “Will you—will you look at me for _one moment_ and—“

“Not when you’re acting the child, Ravus,” she said, in a quiet voice. “Wings or basic, Prompto? I only know the two.”

“Wings, please,” said the blonde, smiling at Ravus’ choking gasp of disgust.

“You used to be so composed, General,” Noct said, ruffling Luna’s hair as he passed. “Promotion did _you_ no favors. I liked you better as a lieutenant.” 

“I liked _you_ better when you weren’t a sadistic—“

“You _liked_ me?” Noctis asked, placing a hand on his chest. “ _Do tell._ ”

“That’s quite enough,” Ignis said, pulling Noct away by the collar. Luna glanced their way and smiled, and Gladio let out a cough that was suspiciously close to a laugh. Ignis remained nonplussed by Noct’s look of outrage. “If he kills you in your sleep, your highness, you have only yourself to blame.”

“If I could be so lucky,” Ravus said, in a low voice. Noct smiled at him sweetly, and Luna and Ignis let out twin sighs of frustration. 

 

The ride back to the Quay passed uneventfully, which gave Noct too much time to consider their next step. Four Astrals down, and only Bahamut—and the Crystal—left to go. Then Ardyn. And Regis. _Gods._ Noct tugged at the hair at the base of his scalp, trying to distract himself from the way Nyx had looked at him when he’d told him what his dad had been like, back at the Citadel. Noct couldn’t be sure if confronting Bahamut would be enough to wake him. Couldn’t be sure of anything. He sighed and leaned over the railing, closing his eyes to the flicker of water rolling past below.

“Hey. Kid.”

Noct turned to see Nyx sitting on one of the long benches, waving him over. 

“Come on,” Nyx said, slapping the seat in front of him. “You’ve been fucking with your hair for days.”

“Calms me down,” said Noct. He barely stopped himself from sitting on the floor—a habit formed after years living with Ardyn—and dropped onto the bench, his back to the Glaive.

“Yeah, well, it gets on _my_ nerves.” Nyx dragged the prince a few inches closer and ran his hands through Noct’s long hair, easing out tangles with practiced efficiency. “You’re thinking about Ardyn. Don’t pretend I don’t know. No one else makes you try to rip your own hair out.”

Noct scowled, but the touch of hands in his hair was oddly soothing, countering the twist of fear in his chest. 

“What are you expecting, when this is over?” Nyx asked. “When he’s purified? You think it’ll change him?”

“I don’t know,” Noct said, honestly. “There were times when he seemed… Like a real person, I guess. It’s hard to explain. I know it had to’ve been an act, but what if part of it wasn’t?” He winced as Nyx tugged at the hair under his ear. 

“You think he loves you?”

“No.” Noct’s voice was firm. “No, he never did.”

“But you want him to.” It wasn’t a question, and it didn’t need an answer. Noct had the strange feeling that they’d both gone too far, stepped over a threshold into a vast emptiness neither of them were prepared for, and there was nothing he could say to draw them back. They both fell into silence instead, Nyx gradually pulling his hair into a style Noct hadn’t felt before, letting the warm breeze of the ocean drift across his suddenly exposed neck. When he was done, Noct raised his hand to feel what had been done—His hair was tied back in a tighter bun, secured by braids the width of two fingers.

“Braids?” he asked, giving Nyx an uneasy smile. “I thought only men wore those, in Galahd.”

“Figure you earned it, _kid,_ ” Nyx said. “All things considered.” Then he rose, clapped Noct on the shoulder, and made his way to where Ignis stood at the wheel.

Noct watched him go for a moment, still half-smiling, before he felt the heat of someone’s gaze at his own back. He turned to see Luna sitting with Prompto, one brow raised, and Ravus behind her, sneering with all the effort of a born bastard. Noct bowed to them in his seat, and Luna’s smile broadened as Prompto hurried to outdo him with a dramatic flourish. Noct lay back on the bench, careful not to disrupt Nyx’s handiwork, and tried to still the disquiet in his heart. At least Luna was ready. That was what truly mattered, in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Everyone loves Luna, which is as it should be.  
> 2\. I wanted someone to fix Noct's disaster of a hairstyle, and now's as good a time as any.  
> 3\. Writer's block has finally been defeated, and we are SO close to the penultimate chapter of this massive undertaking, y'all.


	12. City on fire

That evening, after discussing their plans around the campfire, Noct approached Prompto. 

The blonde jumped. He was still wary after the events of the day before, and Noct wondered if he might always look at the rest of them with that slight hint of fear, the worry that they could turn on him at any moment. Noct had long since resigned _himself_ to being a subject of suspicion, but it seemed to weigh on Prompto.

“Hey, dude. _That’s_ a serious face.”

“Yeah,” Noct said, with a shrug. “Guess so.”

“Want to play King’s Knight? You gotta get better at it sometime.”

Noct shook his head. “Maybe later. Prom, do you have the stuff we took from Ravus?”

“Somewhere, yeah.” Prompto pulled out his bag, which was a mess of wire, computer chips, scraps of metal, and oil. He dug into it and produced a broken tracker signal, an equally broken cell phone, a working radio, and one of the MT security badges, meant to signal MT soldiers not to attack the bearer. Noct smiled at that—he hadn’t worn one of those in years. He took the radio, promised Prompto that he’d come back for a round of King’s Knight later, and walked to the edge of the haven. 

The radio was a new model, not the sort Noct was used to. He had to turn it off and on a few times before he got the signal right, and smiled grimly when he heard the crackle of static and the beep of an operator. 

“ID and outgoing location, please.”

The codes came to Noct as easily as his own name. The operator paused when they heard the outgoing location coordinates, but they didn’t cut the line. Instead, he heard a hiss, and the beeping sound of the frequency transferring to a phone line.

When the beeping stopped, there was a rattle, and the sound of a man letting out a heavy breath. Noct felt his whole body stiffen.

“Why do I have the feeling,” Ardyn said, on the other end of the line, “that this isn’t my dear friend the General?”

“Didn’t know you had friends,” Noct said, after a moment.

“I know you’re going through a _rebellious_ phase, but I must protest.” Noct rolled his eyes. “Don’t make faces, my boy. To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your dulcet tones at eleven in the evening?”

“There’s going to be a coronation,” Noctis said, struggling to keep the quaver from his voice. “Tomorrow afternoon, at the Citadel. I saved you a seat.”

“With dear Regis still alive? Ambitious, my b—“ Noct closed the frequency and turned off the radio. He stared at it for a moment longer, then jumped off the edge of the haven, strode towards the beach, and threw the machine into the sea. 

Luna followed him out. She pulled him in with an arm around his shoulder, and stared out at the radio bobbing and sinking in the waves. The light off of the sea left wavering patterns on her skin, and she looked younger, awkward in Ignis and Prompto’s spare clothes, with Ravus’ robes draped over her shoulders. It was hard to remember that she was at least four years older than Noct, imbued with the power of the gods.

“You’re better than him,” she said, in a soft voice. “You’ll see, tomorrow.”

The two of them stood with their feet at the edge of the water, watching the moon drift up over the bright lights of the Quay, and all that could be heard was the shush of the waves, the hitch of Noctis’ breath, and the crack and hiss of the fire at their backs.

 

When they reached Insomnia the next morning, the city was on fire.

“Oh, hells,” Gladio said, in a broken voice, sliding out of the car as though his legs had given out on him. He held onto the door, blinking up at the black smoke that curled up before the gates of the Citadel, and the orange flame that licked along the roofs of the houses in the upper districts.

“Get in the truck, Gladiolus,” Ignis said. There was a shriek of metal and a roar like the cry of the Titan as an office building buckled, collapsing in a cloud of dust and fire. In the packed lanes on the other side of the highway, passengers screamed.

“That’s right by the slums,” Prompto whispered. “I _live_ there. My parents—“

“Me, too, kid,” Nyx said, parked on his bike with Noct at the helm. He’d had his phone pressed to his ear for the past fifteen minutes, ever since they saw the line of cars heading out of the city. The king was safe, but he was having a hard time getting a hold of the rest of the Kingsglaive. 

It took both Ignis and Noct to drag Gladio back into the truck. When Noct climbed onto the backseat of Nyx’s bike, he saw Luna gazing up at the smoke that obscured the spire of the Citadel. Her eyes glowed violet. At either side of her, Pryna and Umbra followed her gaze, too still, too quiet, not even whimpering at the sting of ash that fell from the sky like snow.

They were alone on the road heading towards the upper district. Noct thought of the call he’d made to Ardyn the night before—Had the chancellor brought the Empire? But no, the magical wall over the city held, still tugging at Noct’s magic. What had he done? This didn’t look like a fire that could have been set by one man alone, even someone like Ardyn. 

It was agreed that they had to abandon the truck and the bike a mile out from the Citadel. Ravus came through, then, stripping bits of his robe and holding them under a pump, ordering the rest of them to cover their noses and mouths with the sodden rags. Everyone was so thrown by the sight of the ravaged city that they didn’t protest. Luna even took Ravus’ hand for a moment, in brief, silent approval, and the Niflheim general followed them into the cloud of ash and smoke without a word.

They didn’t go far before they saw movement in the empty streets. A dark figure approached them, and Noct cast an ice spell, lifting the fog long enough to get a look at who came coughing and blinking out of the thickest of the ash.

“Gladdy!” Iris Amicitia ran forward, stride purposeful, her eyes flashing with the fierce bite of adrenaline. She held a sword in her hands that looked much too large for her to carry, but she showed no sign of exhaustion. Soot streaked half of her face, and her leather and cotton dress was scorched. 

“Iris.” Gladio’s shoulders went back, drawn to attention. “Report.”

“Hard to say,” Iris said. She coughed, and Ravus offered her his own makeshift mask. She glanced at him warily before taking it. “Some kinda fire daemon showed up in front of the Citadel. In the middle of the _day,_ Gladdy. Thank the Six we evacuated the place last week, but half a city block is _burning._ Me’n Cor and half the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive are fighting him, but I’m the only one that got a hit in edgewise. He’s tough.”

“So are you, apparently,” said Ignis. Iris winked at him, then turned back to Gladio, all business. “We need you, Gladdy.”

“You need _me,_ ” Luna protested, stepping forward. Iris looked her up and down, mouth open, and nodded slowly.

“If you think you can help?” she ventured. Luna leaned down and touched Pryna and Umbra on their necks, and the dogs’ eyes glowed a faint gold. The others stared, drawing back a few steps.

“I have a feeling,” Luna said, in a low voice, “that I know who this daemon is. Iris, is it? Umbra will stay with you, me, and the boys. Pryna will bring whoever you need to help with the fires. Who needs to be contacted?”

“My… my dad,” Iris said, staring at the dogs with more than a little trepidation. “He isn’t answering his phone.”

“Tell Pryna where to find him, and she’ll bring him to you,” Luna said. “I’m sure between the two of us, we can take care of this visitor of yours in no time.”

By the time Iris led them to the plaza in front of the Citadel, it was obvious who their _visitor_ was. A giant, horned figure leaned back on a throne of fire, lazily knocking back the soldiers who tried to get close. When he saw Noct, Iris, and Luna at the head of their group, his bright gaze turned to Noctis.

 _The Chosen King arrives at last!_ cried the Astral, Ifrit, the betrayer of human-kind. _Your father summoned me to bid you welcome._ He raised a hand in greeting, then stopped, looking from Noct to Luna with a calculating gaze. 

When Ifrit laughed, the stone at his feet cracked with the overwhelming heat of his fire. Nyx raced for his Glaives, shouting orders under the roar of Ifrit’s voice.

 _Where is the King?_ Ifrit asked. _This boy, wearing a borrowed ring? Why, your companion is cloaked in more power than you, and you are the one meant to—_ He turned to Luna, and laughed again. _You have given the blessings of the so-called gods to a woman?_

“Great,” Luna said. “Very old-fashioned of him.”

“Knew there was a reason I didn’t like this one,” Noct said. He saw Luna’s eyes crinkle in a smile over her mask, and he lowered his mask to call out to the Astral.

 _I am the sword of the Oracle,_ he shouted. _It would be better for you if you submit to her now, Betrayer._

 _The scion of the Accursed speaks to me of betrayal?_ Ifrit asked. Flame spouted towards them, and Noct raised a hand as Gladio skidded in front, shield upraised. The combination of the shield and Noct’s blizzard spell engulfed them in steam, an echo of their fight with the Leviathan.

 _You’ve been warned,_ Noct shouted. “Come on, Gladio. Ignis. Prompto. Let’s kick a god’s ass.”

“Sounds like fun,” Prompto said. 

“Wait.” Ravus, standing at Luna’s side, reached a hand out to Noct. “Let me help. This is…” He looked up at the Astral, and swallowed. “Too much, even for the Empire.”

“Fine,” Noct said. He summoned Ravus’ sword from where he’d stashed it in his armiger, and threw it to him. “Prompto, watch him.”

“Sure thing, buddy.” Prompto fell back with Ravus, and the two of them ran interference as the Oracle approached the Astral. Noct, Gladio, and Ignis joined Iris and Cor at the other side, while Nyx arranged his soldiers to flank the giant from behind.

The fight was chaotic. The masks dried up in seconds, and offered little by way of relief when great waves of fire flew over them, cutting off their air as they dropped flat on the scorched concrete. Iris and Gladio were a better team than even Gladio and Ignis, and managed between them to run a cut down Ifrit’s side that had the Astral screaming in fury. The Glaives kept a steady stream of ice magic weakening the base of Ifrit’s throne, and Ignis and Noct served as quick, flashy distractions, darting in and out of the corner of the Astral’s vision before making way for the heavy hitters. Even Prompto and Ravus had struck up a rhythm, with Prompto firing shots over Ravus’ head before the general charged in, blade gleaming red with the fire of the god. Behind them all, Luna picked her way over the wreckage, eyes glowing a bright and brilliant violet. 

_I hear your call, my dear._ The voice rang in Noct’s mind as though spoken directly into his ear, and he turned. Luna held out her hands to one of the numerous flickering forms of Shiva, smiling gently as the goddess’ fingers brushed hers. Then Shiva turned, all of her, forming a ring around the astonished Ifrit. 

There was a rumble under their feet, and a shriek of victory as boiling water burst free from the pipes under the Citadel, coalescing into a swirling, writhing figure that arched over the reclining Astral with a hiss of steam. The Leviathan broke into twists of rope, striking at Ifrit even as Shiva’s forms trailed their hands up his legs, his arms, digging their fingers into the crown of his head. There was an almighty roar, a wordless cry of rage and fear and anguish, and the skin of the Astral cracked and broke apart with frost, crumbling into a pile of ash and embers. Luna reached out to him and called out in a thin, high voice, and the resulting laugh was weak and low. 

There was a pulse of magic, and the Oracle stumbled on the smoking cobbles where Ifrit had placed his throne.

The light of the covenant flowed from Luna’s fingertips as the power of Ifrit sank into her, then pooled on the ground like swirling starlight come down to earth. When she opened her eyes, the brightness of them made the soldiers and companions around her wince and stumble, and even the strands of her hair seemed to shine. She stood, slowly, trembling under soot-blackened jeans and Ignis’ grey button-up shirt, and turned to face the survivors in the plaza.

Every one of them knelt, turned towards her as trees to the sun.

Noctis, irreverent to the end, was the first to rise. He shoved his hands in his pockets and nudged her boots with a foot, squinting down at her as the light of the covenant began to fade.

“It’s a good look on you,” he said. Luna laughed, and the spell over the plaza broke. The others ran to her through the cloud of ash, clasping hands, mussing her hair, leaning down to pet the dog that gamboled about her feet, filling the toxic air with the sound of pure, unadulterated delight.

Before them, the Crystal waited, and Ardyn. But for now, having seen the very god that created the Scourge bow to the strength of the Oracle, no trial seemed truly insurmountable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to have an angsty moment with Regis, but when Insomnia is literally on fire thanks to godly shenanigans, there just isn't time. D:


	13. Bahamut

Luna and Noctis were three yards up the steps to the Citadel when they realized they had left their friends behind. 

Ignis had made it the furthest, but he was being dragged back by Gladio—Blood ran from the advisor’s nose, and his eyes were hazy and unfocused with pain. Nyx was similarly stricken, and Prompto looked sick. Iris, who had insisted on coming along, seemed fine, but was busy trying to stop Ravus from crawling up the stairs on his own. 

“What’s going on?” Luna asked, running back down to meet them.

“You don’t feel it?” Nyx asked. “The Crystal. It’s the same. The same feeling as before, when we found the King.”

“Like something’s talking in my head,” Iris said. 

“We can’t leave you,” Ignis insisted, struggling in Gladio’s grasp. “Not when there’s…”

Noct sighed. He pushed Ignis’ shoulder lightly. “We’re going to the Crystal first,” he said. “When we… talk to whoever’s inside—“

“Bahamut,” Luna said.

“That guy. When we deal with him, it should be easier. Meet us then, okay? I don’t want any of you to die on the way.”

“Look at you, acting like a king,” Nyx said, grinning through a mask of blood. 

“Don’t get used to it,” said Noct. He forced himself to look away, aware that he’d let the moment linger too long, and took a deep breath. “Well, Luna?”

“We’ll see you soon,” Luna told their companions. “I promise.” She turned without another word, seeming small and insignificant against the wide stretch of stairway. 

Noct turned to follow, and felt a warmth on his shoulder. Nyx dragged him around, his eyes gone dark.

“You’ll come back,” he said. 

“Of course.”

“Good.” Nyx smiled slantwise, and patted Noct's cheek condescendingly. “You owe me a new knife, and quality blades aren’t cheap.”

“Ha, ha,” Noct said, dryly. “Put that on my gravestone: Owes Nyx A Life-Debt.”

“Get in line.”

Noct could hear Luna go still on the stairs above him, her boots clicking to a stop. He knew he was letting the moment drag on, but his throat felt tight with everything he’d left unspoken. All the things he wanted to say to them. Over ten years, he’d lived in a world where there was only one person he could depend on, one set of heels to follow, and in less than a year, it had all been upended. He was _wanted,_ viewed as someone worth protecting. The right words sat on his tongue, ready to be spoken, but he swallowed them. Noct pulled away, feeling Nyx’s hand drop as he turned to go. Luna stared at him as he passed her, and trotted to keep up.

“So, um.”

“Not right now, Luna.”

Luna held back a smile, covering it in her hand. “Of course, Noctis.” Impulsively, she grabbed his hand, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Oh, well,” she said. “At least you’re learning.”

 

They made it to the stairs leading down to the Crystal’s chamber before they heard the sound.

It was a whine, almost a low-level shriek, ringing in their ears like a distant alarm. It rose in intensity as they descended the stairs, and the ring on Noct’s finger was _shivering._

“Be ready,” he said to Luna. “I think he’s pissed.”

Luna grimaced. 

When they reached the open doors of the Crystal’s chamber, the first thing Noct noticed was the smell.

He’d had the misfortune of being on a battlefield after the fight was done, once before. There were some subtle differences—there was no mud here to help the decay along, no rain or wind to twist the scents of earth and flesh into one sickening blast. But it was enough. Noct slipped in front of Luna, trying to shield her from view. 

“Luna,” he said. “I—You should try not to look down.”

“I’ll be fine,” Luna said, but her face had gone pale, and her lips were pressed in a hard line. Noct recognized the look—she was trying _very_ hard not to retch her lungs out in the middle of a royal hallway, and talking would only make it worse. He sighed and stepped aside. 

It happened anyways. Noct held Luna’s hair as she knelt on the rug, eyes squinted shut, breathing through her mouth. He ran his free hand up her back and tried to remember what Ardyn had done for him, all those years ago. 

“It’ll get easier,” he said. 

“It shouldn’t,” Luna whispered. Noct frowned and bit his tongue, and gradually helped her to her feet again. It wouldn’t do to argue with her now. All he could do was hold her hand and guide her through the doors, helping her bypass the bloated bodies that rotted in the entryway of the chamber.

Inside, the Crystal’s guardian was waiting for them. 

_He who would be king,_ Bahamut said. Noct stared up at the enormous, heavily-armored specter that rose above the Crystal, filling the high-vaulted room with his presence. A pressure weighed down on him, similar to the one that had tried to press upon him when he’d first slipped on the ring of the Lucii, and Noct strained not to drop to his knees. He wouldn’t kneel. Not to _him._ Not to the Astral whose Crystal had struck down Regis. 

“I’m not a king,” Noct said, not bothering to speak in the old language. “And you’re no god.”

_I have watched over your line since the time of its founding, little king,_ Bahamut said. _And you sully your ancestors’ legacy with your perversion of the covenant._

_The covenants have been forged._ That was Luna, ducking down to loop her arm around Noct’s, dragging him upright. He hadn’t even noticed that he was starting to buckle under the weight of Bahamut’s power. _I will be the one who purifies the Scourge._

_You?_ Bahamut sounded almost amused, if his toneless voice could register an emotion at all. _The last of the Oracles?_

_Yes,_ Luna said, with a smile. _Me._ She lifted her hand, and the light of her magic spread out like a wall before her, specks of it drifting in the air about her like fireflies. 

_We will have to start anew,_ Bahamut said. _If both the Oracle and the King have fallen._

“Oh, fuck you,” Noct said. The pressure on his shoulders strengthened, and he fell to his knees.

_Enough,_ said Luna, and both Noct and the Astral turned to face her. When the Oracle took a step towards the shimmering form of Bahamut, her feet shook the floor with the strength of the Titan. Her eyes lifted, sharp with the crackling magic of the Storm. 

_It is time,_ she said, her voice soft, almost gentle. 

Bahamut let out another blast of power, but Luna continued, relentless, passing through his magic as though through water. 

_Even the gods must bend,_ she said, and the heat of the magic that flowed from her upraised hand flared out, as though Ifrit himself lent his voice to hers. 

Beneath Bahamut, the Crystal began to shudder. Cracks ran along its surface, splintering in spider-thin strands, breaking apart as Luna stepped forward yet again, the golden light that poured from her hand turning the air of the room into a sunlit haze. Bahamut let out a cry as deep as a heavy bell, making Noct draw back on instinct, but Luna simply ran the next three steps to the Crystal.

_Let us decide our own fates,_ she said, and placed both hands on the Crystal’s quivering surface.

The Crystal burst. 

Luna fell as the greatest of the Crystal’s magic ran through her and Noctis both, digging into their skin. Noct’s scars darkened against the light that swirled through him, and it took him a moment to realize that the heart-wrenching scream that echoed in the chamber was pulled from his own lips. A glowing hand settled on his shoulder, and he leaned into it, pressing his burning forehead to the cool marble of the chamber floor.

Still, the magic of the Crystal flew outward. It settled into the bodies of the Kingsglaive soldiers who ran through burning buildings and threw wards over the roofs of neighboring houses. It slipped over streetlamps and shorted out televisions. It sank into the blood of the youngest Amicitia, who staggered and felt the unfamiliar hum of magic under her fingertips. It laced itself in birds, in children, in a group of old women who looked up at their stunned grandchildren and spoke the words of prophecy. It purified streams in Lestallum, set off all the power plant alarms as it passed, sped on through wood and mountain.

Two hundred miles away from Insomnia, in a small village faced with the worst snowfall in decades, a young girl woke with the taste of magic on her tongue and fire in her hands. 

Further still, a tree in Tenebrae burst into full flower out of season, and the petals that fell from its branches and onto the entranced onlookers gave them visions of the future. 

And in a bed on the outskirts of the city, watched over by a young woman whose magical barrier even then began to crack with the power that had entered her at the Crystal’s behest, Regis Lucis Caelum opened his eyes.

 

“Noctis. Noctis, it’s over.”

Noct opened his eyes with great effort. His body still shook from the strength of the Crystal’s magic, and when he looked up, he saw Luna standing over him, eyes glowing with the light of a new covenant. 

“It’s done, Noctis. You have to stand.”

Noct let himself be dragged to his feet. There was no sign of the Crystal in the empty chamber. He looked down at his hand, and cried out as the ring on his finger collapsed into a pile of empty shards, clattering on the floor. But if the ring was gone, then that meant…

“The barrier,” he said, turning to Luna. “The barrier’s gone. If the city lights go out, the daemons will—“

“We have more important things to take care of, Noctis,” Luna said, in a soft, patient voice. “We have to meet your father.”

“Yes,” Noct said. “Regis. Gods, Regis, I’ve been here this whole time, and—“ He stopped and ran a hand over his face, startled at the feel of five-day stubble on his cheek. Had it only been so long since the first of the covenants had been forged? He saw the look in Luna’s eyes and realized what she had meant. 

“Ardyn,” he said, at last. Luna nodded. Of course. They weren’t done, not yet.

He leaned on Luna as they walked up the stairs leading to the ground floor of the Citadel. With the scream of the Crystal gone, the palace was too empty, too quiet. He couldn’t even hear the hum of the air conditioning, or the groan of pipes in the walls. The stillness was so absolute that he could feel himself start to shake again, and he forced himself to be quiet, to be calm, drawing on Luna’s unbreakable assurance at his side.

As they made their way to the throne room, he thought of Ardyn. The man who had stolen him from his true family, who had shaped him into a soldier, a killer, a pawn whose goal was to break the spirit of the kingdom he’d been born to rule. And also, the man who had smiled on that hill in the vision, so long ago, who had believed himself the hero that would cleanse the world of the Starscourge. He was the man who healed Noctis, once, had talked him down from disquieting dreams, had offered him praise when all the world seemed to ignore Noct’s existence. But he had also been the orchestrator of that isolation, and the source of Noct’s fear and aching loneliness. 

How much of that man on the hill was left in the Ardyn that Noct had known? How much was left to save?

Luna placed her hand on the door to the throne room, then stood back. 

“Noctis,” she whispered. “Did you hear what Ifrit said?”

“A little?”

“He believed that _you_ forged the covenants,” she said. “What if Ardyn does as well? I… I want you to go in first. Distract him, if you can. He’s had so long to prepare, and surprises only last so long.”

Noct hesitated.

“I’ll be right here,” Luna said. “I’ll protect you.”

Noct smiled, and nodded. “I believe you, Luna. See me go.” He bowed, winked with all the humor he could dredge up from the sickening dread in his stomach, and opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Chanting_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> OVERPOWERED LUNA  
> OVERPOWERED LUNA  
> OVERPOWERED LUNA


	14. To Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, heavily referencing Chapter 7 of the first fic in the beginning, here. It comes full circle.

Noctis opened the doors of the throne room.

He walked smartly along the cold stone floors, head high, arms tucked in the wide pockets of his jacket. Along the tall windows around him, night had long since fallen, and without the barrier of magic to protect the city, the artificial streetlights did little to block out the overpowering dark of the ruined world beyond. The high stairs to the throne yawned above him, and sitting on the throne itself, his auburn hair soft in the darkness, sat the king.

 _Your Majesty,_ Noct said in the old tongue, his voice echoing in the empty hall. _I come bearing news from the gods._

"I thought you'd never get here, my boy," Ardyn said. He had slung one leg over the arm of the throne, leaning back as though he'd been there for quite some time. For all Noct knew, he had. Perhaps he'd even been there when Noct had called him the night before, waiting for him. 

"You missed something," Ardyn said, as Noct stopped at the dais before the throne. Noct raised an eyebrow. "The Crystal, son. Without the Crystal, _this,_ " he gestured to Noct, "is worthless. Go back down and pay your respects, then come back. I'll be fine right here."

"I might've messed _that_ one up, father," Noct said. "Call it a hunch."

“Really? What did you do?” Ardyn asked, leaning forward, smiling down at him indulgently.

“The Crystal has been destroyed,” Noct said. “It’s gone.”

Ardyn’s smile froze. He looked down at Noct, looked _through_ him, and Noct felt a probing, cautious touch of magic under his skin, stirring his own reserves of mana that lay in his blood. Then Ardyn’s gaze turned to Noct’s right hand, and the Accursed’s eyes narrowed. 

“You destroyed it,” he said, in an expressionless voice. “You. Destroyed the crystal. The source of the power that could have ended this, and you… You’re _weaker_ than before. Where are the gods? Their power?”

“It didn’t take,” Noct said. 

Ardyn began to laugh. It was a terrible, mirthless laugh, guttural and strange, wrought with the echoes of something primal and inhuman. He dropped his head in his hand, shoulders shaking with it, his laugh coming out harsh in the empty throne room. When he lifted his head again, his cheeks ran black with the ichor of the Scourge, and oily and thick against the white of his teeth. 

“You come to me _weak,_ ” he snarled, all humor gone, and Noct was thrown back as the man warped less than a foot away, an elbow pressed hard to his windpipe. “All those years, all the years I groomed you, _changed_ you, dragged your _miserable, sickeningly soft_ heart through what it would take to give you the strength to end it, and you say _it didn’t take?_ ”

Noct scrabbled at Ardyn’s arms, desperate to breathe. The man drew back and lifted Noct up by the collar, sneering as the prince let out a heaving gasp. Noct could feel tears welling, tasted the salt of them on his lips, but he could barely focus through the overpowering fear that fogged his mind. 

“I should kill you,” Ardyn said. He tossed Noctis aside, then slammed into him again, knocking him into the wall. Then he swung him around and threw him down once more, slinging him into a pillar. “I should kill you, and all the gods you’ve abandoned, and every. Last. Filthy. Living. Thing. On this _wretched_ planet.” 

Too late, Noct remembered his sword. He summoned it, but Ardyn simply gripped it in his bare hands, dragging Noctis down. 

“And when I’m the last to walk this ruined shell of an earth,” Ardyn said, “I will know that _you_ will be the one to’ve caused it.”

“Luna,” Noct said. His voice was a croak.

Ardyn’s smile was foxlike. “The Oracle? Oh, yes, I will _enjoy_ dealing with h—“

“Luna!” Noct called. Too _soft._ She had to be there, had to hear the sounds within. “ _Luna!_ ”

“I’m here, Noctis.” 

Noct nearly sobbed with relief when Ardyn released him. He wanted to slide to the ground, but he grabbed the stone pillar behind him, forcing his legs to hold. A sharp pain in his side warned him that at least one rib was cracked, maybe broken, and when he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he left a streak of blood behind. 

“The _Oracle_ has forged the covenants?” Ardyn’s voice was thick with disgust. “Noctis, I certainly didn’t raise you to be a sniveling _coward._ ”

“No,” Noct said, hoarsely. “You raised me to question everything. Even the gods. Even you.”

“Ardyn Lucis Caelum,” Luna said, lifting her hands. “We’ve come to put you to rest.”

Ardyn let out a harsh laugh, and spun on his heel even as Noct lunged forward, sword outstretched. The sword fell to the ground as Ardyn pushed down on Noct’s wrists, twisting them savagely. He pushed Noct to his knees, and summoned his own blade, black as pitch and jagged with use.

“This isn’t how I would have liked it to go, my boy,” he said. They were so close that Noct could feel the warmth of Ardyn’s breath on his face.

“I know,” Noct said. “Me, neither.”

Ardyn only had time to knit his brow in confusion before the blade from Noct’s summoned armiger struck the Accursed from behind. The sword bit into Noct’s own shoulder as it passed through the man he had once called his father, and Luna ran forward to hold the sword down by the hilt with both hands, forcing Ardyn to kneel. 

Noct yanked himself free of the sword, ignoring the blood that poured down his shirtfront, and stumbled around Ardyn’s stunned form to grab the hilt in Luna’s stead, holding him still. “Luna,” he said. “Please.”

Luna stepped in front of Ardyn, who looked up at her, his body twitching with the effort of reforming around the blade in his back. Luna hesitated only a moment, and then placed her hands on Ardyn’s shoulders. 

Healing light poured from her and into the man kneeling between them, chasing away the shadows that lurked under his skin. Ardyn convulsed, then his hands jerked up to wrap themselves around Luna’s neck. Noct twisted the sword in his grip, but it barely caused Ardyn to flinch. 

Luna’s eyes flashed violet, and electricity crackled over her skin, making Ardyn’s hands twitch back from her throat. Still the light fell from her, and Noct started to see something rising from Ardyn like steam, like smoke. The black ash of the Scourge, drifting up from his skin and away, dissipating in the glow of Luna’s magic. 

Ardyn cursed them. He threatened them with every torture in his vast knowledge of the craft, tried to rise, to push Luna back, to summon his own weapons to strike her from behind. Every time, one of the gods would interfere, protecting her from his fists, his fingers that bit like claws, his blades. He even tried to strike down Noctis, and Noct had to call up a shield at his back. 

Eventually, his threats stopped. He started to growl, to hiss, to scream with the voices of the daemons that he’d absorbed into his flesh, writhing and twisting and struggling to pull free. The hilt under Noct’s hands grew red hot, and he called ice to his fingers as they blistered and burned. 

Noct almost let go of his sword when Ardyn started to sob. Great, wrenching sobs, trailing in words that Noct could only barely understand. He looked at Luna, who bit her lip and bowed her head.

 _I’ve done what you wanted,_ Ardyn said, in the language of the old kings. His voice slid clumsy over the long abandoned sounds. _I’ve_ always _done what you wanted._

 _Not much longer, father,_ Noct said, in the same language. 

_Why couldn’t you let me die?_ Ardyn asked. The black ichor on his cheeks cracked into brittle flakes, like rust, and light began to shine through lines of his skin. Luna sat up and snaked her left hand around Ardyn’s shoulder to grasp Noct. Noct willed his own mana to flow through him and into her, felt the surge in the magic that scoured Ardyn’s spirit.

“Now,” Luna said. “Noctis, do it now.”

Noct twisted his hands around the hilt of his sword and braced his knee on Ardyn’s back as he drew it forth. It slid from Ardyn’s flesh too easily, and as it emerged, Luna’s left hand brushed the lingering strands of shadow from the blade. At last it was done, and no shadow of the Scourge remained within the body of the fallen King of Lucis. 

Noctis dropped the sword to his side as Ardyn fell back, and wondered at how easy it was to shift Ardyn so that his head rested on Noct’s lap. Two thousand years of being held together by the Scourge and by spite, and there was nothing left.

 _Gods,_ Ardyn said, in the old tongue. _That hurts like hell._

 _Sorry,_ Noct said. He pressed his fingers against Ardyn’s shoulder, and hissed as the flesh gave way, bending like paper. Ardyn looked up at him with a curious eye. _I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this._

 _My dear,_ he said. _Your accent is_ terrible.

 _Thanks, father,_ Noct said, without thinking. Ardyn’s lips twisted into something that could have been a smile.

_Father? I don't have children._

_I…_ Noct was at a loss. He couldn’t find the words in the old language to explain what had passed between them, as awful and complicated as it had been. _It’s true. In a way._

Ardyn hummed. _Can’t… imagine myself with a son. How did that happen? How was I? Not too awkward, I hope?_

 _You were terrible,_ Noct admitted. _But I’m fine._

 _I can see that._ Ardyn searched Noct’s eyes, and let out a shuddering sigh. _You came out of it kind. Take that as a triumph._

He closed his eyes, and golden light swam behind his thin lids.

“I wish I knew you as you were,” Noct said, slipping into his own tongue. “I wish you couldn’t—I wish—“ 

He felt a touch at the back of his head. Ardyn’s hand was breaking apart as it pressed into his hair, feather-light and soft.

“I wish I could have—” 

Luna leaned over what was left of Ardyn’s body and cupped Noct’s cheek in her hand. Light burst in flickering fragments all around them, rushing upwards like the last snapping flames of a fire before going out against the greyness of the dawn. Noct blinked the last specks of it from his eyes. It was done. He and Luna had broken from their predestined path. They had purified the Starscourge, and brought the light back to Eos. Noct raised his head to the high windows of the throne room, and his eyes were clear and bright, his hair fell in loose strands down his back, and his hands were empty, empty.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noct has a talk with his dad.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret stood at the top step of the Citadel, drowning in flowers. 

“What do you think?” Noct asked. He was standing a safe distance behind her, arms crossed over his chest. “Should we rescue her?”

“She’s a grown woman, Noct,” Ignis said. Like Noct, Gladio, Prompto and Nyx, he wore a specially tailored black suit, and was the only one of them to have pulled it off properly. Noct couldn’t seem to figure out how to work the coattails, Prompto had somehow ripped the sleeves off of his, and Gladio, well, he made an attempt, but you could tell that he wanted to take both the jacket _and_ the shirt _off._ Nyx looked strange in anything that wasn’t a Kingsglaive uniform, and was standing next to Ravus in any case. That was bound to make anyone look uncomfortable. 

Gladio’s sister, Iris, stood on Luna’s right, alongside Crowe, Cor, and a number of Crownsguard who had protected the city during Ifrit’s attack. They all looked immaculate, which made Noct feel a little more than disgruntled at his own appearance.

Luna spoke into the microphone, thanking all of Lucis for their kindness, their hard work, and possibly their attempt to suffocate their savior in a tangle of garlands and bouquets. Noct couldn’t be sure—Prompto kept snapping photos every five seconds, Pryna was nosing the back of his knee, and it was becoming harder and harder to pay attention. 

Then Ignis was nudging Noct in the side, and he had to drag himself onto the podium to deliver yet _another_ gift to the savior of Eos. Noct had insisted on keeping his role in the events of that night secret, but rumor had a habit of spreading. The last time he’d gone out in public, he’d been swarmed so quickly by well-wishers that Gladio and Ignis had to drag him into an alley to escape. Now, Luna took his fumbling and awkward phrasing well, smiling at him encouragingly, and when he stepped back, she reached out and gave his fingers a squeeze.

The press would have a field day with _that_ one.

When it was over, Luna and Iris joined the rest of them for dinner in the residential wing of the Citadel. Luna trailed flowers for most of the evening, and Iris kept snickering and picking petals out of her hair and off of her clothes. Ignis and Prompto engaged in the sort of drinking contest that only desperate lightweights could ever have, and Gladio stuck to his father like a burr, still relating every detail of the trip.

“Ready to run for it, your highness?” Nyx appeared at Noct’s side like a ghost. He’d somehow managed to slip back into his captain’s uniform, and was holding a glass of water. He leaned against the prince’s chair, looking out at the small gathering.

“I’ve thought about it,” Noct said. “Dad had to head back early, so…” He shrugged. The first time he saw Regis after the Scourge had been purified, the king was too weak to stand on his own. He was getting better, slowly, but Noct had started to spend more time with him, going over reports and ordinances, before passing them on to the Council in the king’s stead. Regis had seemed thoroughly exhausted when he left the party, and Noct could feel the twist of anxiety begin to stir in his chest.

“I’m approving some mages for search and recovery,” Nyx said, in a careful voice. “We're getting reports of magic popping up everywhere, these days. I could say that I need your input. Duty calls, all that.”

“No,” said Noct. “You’re a shit liar.” He ducked the smack on the back of his head, and made his way to the dessert table, piling a plate with tiny cakes and fruit. He made his excuses to the others, and Luna gave him a sisterly kiss on the temple and waved him out the door.

When Noct stepped into his father’s rooms, he saw King Regis lying back on a couch, flipping through a worn paperback. He paused when Noct approached, and set his book down at his side, smiling up at him.

“There’s the hero of the hour,” he said.

“Hardly,” Noct said. He popped an entire macaroon in his mouth. “You’re looking for Luna.”

“Truly?” Regis sat up with a groan, and eyed the mess on the plate like a man delving into an undiscovered country. He gingerly picked out a grape from under a collapsing piece of cake. “If it hadn’t been for you, none of this would have happened. Give yourself credit, son. You’ve done remarkable things.”

“I’d rather not be known for it,” Noct admitted, through a mouthful of pastry. Regis sighed at his deplorable manners, but didn’t comment.

“Well, then,” Regis said. “What _do_ you want to be known for?” 

Noct sat back. He took in the state of his father’s room—Regis’ shoes lined up neatly at the door, with Noct’s boots thrown haphazardly across them. New family photos crowding for space with older, faded pictures and oil paintings. Books scattered about on tables and desks, half of them Noct’s, some of them holding down notes from pre-Council briefings. His own bare feet tucked under him on the chair, and Regis, grey-haired but already so much brighter, so present, without the Crystal’s influence on his body and mind, watching him expectantly. 

“This,” Noct said, and leaned over to extricate another macaroon from the pile. “This is enough.”

 

Two years later, Prince Noctis stood in the soft grass of the Slough of Duscae, looking out over the rippling water. He was dressed in a black sweatshirt and jeans, but his coat dripped with gold chain and flashed with the insignia of the royal house of Lucis, and his shoes were glossy and well-made. He ran a hand over his neatly-trimmed beard and whistled. A grey and white dog burst from the undergrowth a few yards away, tongue lolling, its too-big paws scrabbling in the dirt. Behind him, Noct heard a chuckle, and turned to see Gladio leaning against the recovered and newly refurbished Regalia. He had a dog of his own at his side, Eilonwy, dark-furred and impossibly prim, which gazed down at Noctis as though he had deeply disappointed her on a personal level. At only a year old, both dogs were still puppies, but Gladio’s had taken to her owner like a true Amicitia—Stern, aloof, and fiercely loyal. 

The best that could be said about Noct’s dog, Taran, was that he _tried._ Noct found this fitting, somehow. 

He walked down the slope carefully, stepping around the pup as he wove between Noct’s legs and rocketed through bushes, emerging out the other side covered in leaves and twigs. Gladio watched from a distance, giving him space. He knew where the prince was going.

Noct stopped at a raised plinth at the edge of the water. It was made of smoked crystal inlaid in stone, but if you crouched down and looked at the meteor through it, you could see faint forms curling like smoke against the sky. A young man, hair tied up in a style long out of fashion, standing on a hill. Sentimental, maybe. Ardyn would have hated it—but perhaps the man in the crystal would have approved. Noct couldn’t be sure. 

“Hey,” he said. “Looks like Luna beat me here, huh?” A bundle of blue flowers lay at the base of the stone. Noct sat down, patting his leg, and Taran rolled onto his back at his side. Then Noct set a little statue on the top of the plinth—A bird, inscribed with the rune that stood for the first true king of Lucis. 

“You always did like art,” Noct said, absently scratching the dog as he looked through the crystal. “Your room was a mess with it. I used to make fun of all the different types of tapestries you had, and you said—“

He paused. In the distance, there was a slosh of water as a great beast nosed through the mud of the Slough. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “But I know you liked it. Maybe it reminded you of who you were.” He took a deep breath, let it out. “Things are better, now. _I’m_ better. Things were never as bad as you thought they were.”

He looked up, past the plinth, over the ridge of the stone steppes leading to the Meteor. The sun was an hour from setting, and the dark leaves of the evergreen trees were lined with a faint gold. Wind bent the grasses of the Slough like waves on an unmoving sea, and birds darted across the hazy late afternoon sky, wheeling and curving. Noctis raised his gaze to them, following their progress, and smiled. 

“You were right, Ardyn,” he said, at last. “It _is_ a beautiful country.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The important thing to take away from this is that Umbra and Pryna had puppies, and now there are dogs everywhere.
> 
> Prompto's is named Hen Wen, Ignis' is Dallben, and Iris' is Gwydion. Nyx tried to refuse a puppy, but the runt of the litter, Gurgi, ended up being adopted by the entire Kingsglaive and spends most of his time being pampered by literally everyone.
> 
> THANK YOU to every one of y'all! You supported me, commented, gave kudos, gave advice, and generally helped turn what started out as "I think I'll make a seven-chapter fill for this kinkmeme prompt" into a 60k+ word monster with three installments and a plot spanning the course of the game.  
> You guys... are the best.


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